A Strange Kind of Warrior
by Witchypants1
Summary: With the tide of war going against the Order, Hermione Granger has no choice but to become a spy. Her marriage to a Death Eater will test her cunning, her sanity and perhaps even her loyalties. However, it might just be the key to dealing with the horrors of her past. TW: Non-con, violence, smut.
1. Foreward

This account is composed of memories and interviews with those who were involved in it. I have placed them in an order that I hope will aid the court in in understanding the events that transpired. I have used my client's memories sparingly and sought instead to let his actions speak for themselves. In the interest of full transparency, I have not censored or omitted everything. As such, the contents of this document are to be kept STRICTLY CONFIDENTIAL.

I can only hope that what I have collected will paint my client as he truly is, a man with a dark past who saw the light and sought to repent.

 _-Cornelius Clearwater, attorney for the defense._


	2. Interview with Hermione Granger: 1

"Nobody else's got what it takes for this mission, Granger," Moody growled over my spluttered objections. "You're a damn fine legilimens, a better occlumens."

"Snape's better!" I objected half-heartedly

"Arr he is that, but he's not young, and beautiful, and…"

Moody trailed off, but the subtext hung clear in the air: _Already ruined_

I narrowed my eyes. I could see everyone around the table shifting uncomfortably, but I stood up straighter and focused my gaze on Moody. There was a long silence, during which I tried to breathe deeply and not hex him.

Finally, he dropped his eyes and sighed deeply. "Look, girl. Ya know I care about you, I'm fond of you and there's nothing I want less than to throw you into the lion's den. But with Dumbledore gone we're losing, and badly. Unless we can turn it around, your fate will be much worse than what we're proposing here. Hermione, if I thought there was another way you can be sure I'd take it."

I pushed back angrily from the table and looked around the room furiously. Ron was beet red, but kept his eyes determinedly on the wood planks in front of him. Molly, unsmiling since the loss of both her husband and her Fred, sat like a statue. All the others looked away awkwardly, with only Remus daring to make eye contact with me. Suddenly I realized who was missing in the Order meeting.

"Where's Harry?"

Remus gave a small smile. "Do you really think he'd even allow us to consider it? He tried to muggle duel Moody for suggesting this plan".

So that explained the mass of bruises covering half of his face. Figures. "We had to restrain him until you make your decision. You know he'd try to stop you".

"Some decision," I bit out angrily "become a Death Eater whore or face the end of the world, and get murdered and raped by them anyway"

I turned my back and made for the door.

"So you're in, then?" Moody clarified.

I turned around as I pulled the door open "I'm in. This better fucking work."


	3. Interview with Hermione Granger: 2

The next day found Severus (no longer Professor Snape after three years of camaraderie), Sirius and Moody pinning me to the kitchen table while Remus carefully inserted an implant into a small cut in my ribcage with the tip of his wand. I gritted my teeth, trying not to cry out.

"These are the latest in magi-bio tech," Remus explained, "Fred and George invented them if you can believe that. Always knew they couldn't be as big of idiots as they acted. This one is a tracking implant. It's linked to the one on Snape's pocketwatch."

"He gets a watch, I get to be the victim for a game of Operation", I bit out.

"And you know why. Dangerous though his job may be, Severus gets to keep all his clothes on", Sirius joked. I chose that moment to not-so-involuntarily twitch and kick him between his legs.

He doubled over clutching himself. "Fuck, babe," Sirius wheezed "guess you didn't need that shield implant after all".

I hissed as Moody changed his grip, brushing agains the implant that had already been inserted in my upper arm. "And that one?" I asked, gesturing to it with a nod.

"That one," Remus explained with a entirely too gleeful twinkle, "is a pheromone emitter. They're all controlled by touching the appropriate freckle on the inside of your wrist. One whiff of that one and you'll be beating them off with a shitty stick".

I cringed at the image. "Lovely."

"Not that you need it, of course," added Sirius solicitously, obviously trying to pre-empt any more violence on my part.

"And done!" Announced Remus, closing me up with a flourish of blue light.

The hands released me and I sat up slowly. All the implant sites were tender, but not uncomfortably so. Then again, I have a very high pain tolerance.

"Now don't go over-testing that Shield," Moody warned. "It will lessen the effects of most major curses, but obviously it would be too suspicious to negate them all together. And we're not sure yet to what extent it really works on non-magical attacks."

"Noted. So now it's just on Severus to lay the bait?"

"Already seen to," the aforementioned wizard confirmed, "After last night's meeting I let slip some interesting details regarding Miss Granger's parentage that we'd recently discovered. Namely that she is not, in fact, a muggle-born at all but was fostered out to her muggle parents during the first war after Emmeline and Gerald were killed. Ergo she is actually a pureblood of house Vance."

"And did the Dark Lord seem interested in this information?" Remus inquired.

"Indeed he did. Apparently he has been getting quite desperate to find pureblood mates to carry on his Death Eaters' houses. Turns out," he added with a derisive snort, "Nice European families don't want to get anywhere near a Death Eater".

I gulped and willed myself to speak in a calm, measured voice.

"So all is in place, then? In that case I think I'll get some sleep".

Everyone nodded uncomfortably, and the little gathering broke up. I drew my sweater closer around myself as I climbed the cold, drafty stairs up to the dark bedrooms. I was bone tired, but had a feeling that it wouldn't prevent the nightmares from waking me up in a few short hours. _What I wouldn't give for a night of uninterrupted sleep!_ I was sure I'd be about ten times smarter, and nicer to boot.

I paused uncertainly on the third floor landing and contemplated Harry and Ron's bedroom. I knew Harry was still knocked out with a dreamless sleep potion to prevent him from causing mayhem and trying in interfere with our plan. But I wondered if I should speak to Ron. What do you say to your ex-boyfriend who's still furious at you? What about when he's also your childhood friend? And when you're still more than a little scared of him?

Deciding I couldn't handle a fight of that magnitude at this time of night, I continued up to my room. I thought about going to Sirius's room for a little bit of physical comfort, but decided against it. He'd never shown pity for me before, and I really wanted it to stay that way.

The next morning, I stared at the gray, pre-dawn ceiling of my room. It was still early, but I knew I wouldn't be getting any more sleep. I rolled out of bed with a groan and threw on a dressing gown. I glanced in the mirror and wished I hadn't- my hair was so frizzy that it encircled my head like a carmel-colored cloud. Deciding I'd deal with that later, I padded quietly down the stairs to get a cup of tea.

When I entered the kitchen, I almost backed right back out. Molly was at the stove, her back to me. I froze for a moment, wondering if I could bribe Kreacher to send up tea. _Have a spine Hermione_ , I told myself, _just deal with it head-on_. I took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen.

"Tea, dear?" Molly asked in a fragile voice.

"Yes, please," I replied in an equally stilted tone.

She handed me a cup and I sat down at the table. I craned my head around her ample waist and saw bacon and eggs on the stove.

"Looks delicious," I offered.

Without warning, she turned around and flung herself at me. I nearly hexed her, but managed to fight the impulse in time. To my surprise, she was clasping me to her breast and hugging me tightly. I thought I felt tears splashing into my hair. "Oh Hermione, darling, I'm so sorry!" She wailed, "I know we haven't always gotten on well, especially now with you and Ron, but I can't believe you're being forced to do this!"

"Molly, I chose." I said in a muffled voice, wanting to extricate myself without hurting her feelings.

"Chose?! When they put it like that what choice did you have? It's just not right sending a young girl off to do something like this, and after everything you've already endured. You know you can still back out, don't you? I'll make sure nobody treats you the worse for it."

"Molly, really..."

"Oh Hermione, darling, be careful. You're on the potion, aren't you?"

My face turned red. I stammered, "Muggle birth control, undetectable and it lasts five years"

Luckily Remus chose that moment to enter the kitchen and Molly was forced to release me. She turned sniffling back to the stove and heaped 9 portions of bacon, a dozen eggs and a huge stack of toast onto my plate.

A short while later, I took one last look around my room. I couldn't pack of course, and I wanted to imagine I'd be coming back. Deep down I knew that even if I came back, I wouldn't be the same. I sighed heavily again.

"Not very ladylike, all that moaning and groaning," the mirror snarked.

"Oh shut it" I retaliated, glad to have something to snap at.

At the bottom of the stairs Moody was waiting for me.

"Everyone's in the kitchen. Go say yer goodbyes."

"Best not," I said quietly "Let's just go. Make sure Harry takes care of Crookshanks."

Moody snorted, "As if that beast needs care-taking from anyone".

We stepped out into the crisp, inappropriately beautiful fall air. We turned on the spot, and the whip-like crack of dis-apparition brought us to the entrance of Diagon Alley. Checking that we were alone in the early morning sunlight, I turned to Moody and took his arm before he could tap the brick.

"Remember," I said "Go down easy. Snape planted the idea to snatch me in Malfoy's head, but he didn't suggest what to do with anyone escorting me."

"Don't ye tell me the rules of my own game," Moody growled back, "I've been doing protection details since before you were thought of."

"Yes," I retorted, "but you've always been aiming to succeed."


	4. Interview with Hermione Granger: 3

The first part of the plan had gone off like clockwork. As we were shopping in Diagon Alley, unseen assailants had hit Moody and I with stunners. At least I hoped they'd hit him with a stunner as well. I woke up sprawled across the floor of Malfoy Manor's living room to the sight of Old Snake-Face himself grinning evilly and twirling my wand between his fingers. So far, so good.

Fighting the urge to empty my stomach contents on the same hated floor where Bellatrix had tortured me three years ago, I clambered slowly to my feet. I tasted blood in my mouth.

I said I silent prayer for Moody, and then focused on my current situation. I stood facing Voldemort, who watched me predatorily for a moment.

"It is customary to bow in the presence of your Lord," he spat in a high, cold voice.

"Fuck you," I replied calmly.

" _Crucio_!"

Moody had been right, the shield implant didn't do much about the pain. Nonetheless, my mind did seem a little clearer as I writhed on the floor. Would it seem suspicious if I gave up so early?

The curse lifted and I staggered to my feet. Voldemort turned to the assembled Death Eaters with a smirk, "You'll certainly have your hands full with this one, Dolohov."

My mind reeled and I almost fell over again. Dolohov?! Of all the Death Eaters… My side gave a twinge where I still bore a curse scar from that bastard.

Dolohov looked equally furious. He strode to the front of the group and knelt before Voldemort.

"Alright," came Voldemort's high, clear voice, "We have things to attend to. Get up and let's get this done."

"And you're sure she's Pure, my Lord?" Dolohov shot me a glare that clearly showed what he thought of that.

"Positive," said Voldemort in annoyance, "Take her arm."

"Now?"

"No, Tuesday. Yes, now Dolohov!" snapped Voldemort.

"My Lord, this is hardly the tradition of my house," Dolohov replied stiffly, sweeping a glance at me in my muggle jeans.

"Well you're not in Russia. And you should be thanking me for gifting you with a Pureblood bride. Of, course… if you are ungrateful for that which your Lord gives you-"

"Of course not, my Lord. I beg your pardon", Dolohov replied stiffly.

Before I could react, Dolohov grabbed my forearm just below the elbow. I tried to pull back, but his grip was unrelenting. "Take my arm or die," he growled.

With a deep breath, I grasped his forearm. A small, older man I didn't know stepped forward. He began speaking in Latin and tendrils of white light spread around our joined arms.

"Do you take this witch as your wife, to have and to hold, to protect and honor, until death do you part?"

"I do"

"Do you take this wizard as your husband, to have and to hold, to protect and honor, until death do you part?"

"I won't-" I blurted, but was cut off by Voldemort's wand at my neck. I squeaked, "I do," doing my best to look cowed.

"And do you consent to bind the magic of your house to house Dolohov forever?"

I froze for a second a Dolohov gave my arm a menacing squeeze.

"I do," I answered automatically, before I realized what had been asked. Oh Merlin, we hadn't thought of that part. Had I just created a house of Granger? What did it mean to bind houses? Were there any Death Eaters left of house Vance who would realize that their house's magic wasn't bound to house Dolohov?

"Very good, very good," crowed Voldemort, looking pleased with himself, "Now get on upstairs and start passing on the family name."

Dolohov, still not releasing my arm, turned on the spot, swinging me along with him. The high, cold laughter followed us out of the hall. Dolohov dragged me along by the arm, his grip bruising and rough. I was torn between sinking to the floor crying or launching myself on him and trying to claw his eyes out. Realistically, neither would help. Instead, I tried to take deep breaths and stay calm as I stumbled along in his wake. He disapparated just outside the door, I felt my stomach revolt at the unexpected Side-Along apparition.

As I fought the urge to vomit, Dolohov dragged me inside the door of wherever we'd landed. The set of his shoulders radiated fury as he yanked me up a sweeping, ornate staircase. At the top, he wrenched a door open and hurled me into another room. I flew across the thick, persian carpet and fell face first onto the bed.

I recoiled from the bed as if it were on fire and jumped to my feet, facing him. When I'd imagined this moment I had imagined myself calm, resolved, maybe even a little seductive. In reality, all I could do was tremble before him. I saw him in my mind's eye, wild and terrible as he'd been on the day he'd cursed me in the Ministry. Images raced through my mind of all the awful things he could do me, alone in his bedroom, legally and magically in his power.

He shucked off his outer robes, and his pale, muscular arms were revealed. Navy tattoos snaked up his forearms, underscoring his resemblance to a viking. In that moment, all plans flew from my mind and I only knew that I wouldn't let either of those things happen again. I settled instinctively into a fighting stance, forgetting I had no wand to draw.

To my surprise, Dolohov's eyes crinkled. If he'd been anyone else I'd have thought him to be smiling.

"Oh, you are a hellcat," He rumbled in his thick Russian accent. I curled my lip at him and looked him in the eye, wordlessly daring him to step closer.

Dolohov's eyebrows quickly descended and his expression shifted to one of annoyance. "We will not be fighting tonight, I do not take women against their will. I am from an honorable house."

I snorted. I knew all about that sort of 'honor'.

"I am serious, little one," he growled, "You are my wife. I will do you no injury."

I continued glaring at him, not relaxing an inch. He'd already done me more than enough injury with the curse in the Department of Mysteries. Dolohov threw his arms up in annoyance, and to my surprise stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him, rattling the frame.

The panic of a trapped rat overwhelmed me and I scurried to the bedroom door and tried to open it, without any real hope of success. As I raced back to check the window, I heard the shower start. I wrenched the window latch but it didn't move. I stood for a moment with my hand on the window frame, chest heaving and panic threatening to overwhelm me. I leaned my head against the cool glass and tried to slow my breathing.

 _This is the plan, Hermione._ I reminded myself. _Whatever happens here in this room tonight is still on the plan._ I like plans, I've never been able to resist. I cling fiercely to them in times of stress, and this was no exception.

 _Get kidnapped- Check. Get married to a Death Eater- Check. (Unfortunate it's Dolohov, but the plan didn't specify which). Get intel by sleeping with the enemy as much as possible-Still to do. Okay, Hermione, you've got this. Just follow the plan..._

Of course, this was still the easy part. Getting married to Dolohov was just my 'in' to Death Eater society. He was far from the only one I'd need to get information from. I still hadn't really worked out how to do that without getting ripped to pieces in the process. I sat down on the bed, ready for a fight when Dolohov came out, but I guess the adrenaline high finally caught up with me. Without realizing it, I slipped into a dreamless sleep.


	5. From the memories of Antonin Dolohov: 1

Two masked and hooded figures entered the darkened room, the candlelight giving their silver masks an even more eery aspect than usual. The girl between them sagged unconscious. She had a spectacular black eye blooming on her face, and both she and the Death Eaters flanking her had rips and burns on their clothing that indicated a fierce fight had taken place. Her hair curled wildly at all angles, fierce and untamed. Her muggle jeans and cheery jumper could not have been more out of place in the room of black-robed figures.

As they approached the waiting circle of hooded figures, her captors flung her to the ground before the Dark Lord's feet. She fell on her side, limp as a rag doll, and skidded a few feet. One of them drew a wand and barked, " _Ennervate_."

She looked around groggily for a moment before shaking her head as if to clear it. She climbed to her feet with a defiant gleam in her eye and stood straight-backed and proud. She licked her bloody bottom lip experimentally, but said nothing.

Voldemort rose languidly to his feet and narrowed his eyes,

"It is customary to bow in the presence of your Lord," he hissed.

The girl's facial expression didn't change.

"Fuck you," she replied.

There was a collective gasp from the circle of Death Eaters, but Voldemort only smiled.

" _Crucio_ ," he whispered.

She fell to the ground convulsing, but to the surprise of the Death Eaters watching, she endured the agony without making a sound. After several long seconds, the white bone wand lifted. The girl staggered to her feet, swaying dangerously, but managing to right herself.

Under his mask, Antonin Dolohov raised his eyebrows. Maybe some of the rumors about this slip of a girl were true after all.

Voldemort turned to the assembled Death Eaters with a smirk, "You'll certainly have your hands full with this one, Dolohov."

Antonin groaned inwardly, but stepped forward nonetheless. He knelt stiffly, barely inclining his head.

Alright," came Voldemort's high, clear voice, gesturing for him to get up"We have things to attend to. Get up and let's get this done."

"And you're sure she's Pure, my Lord?" asked Dolohov, his eyes narrowing at the girl who was about to be his problem.

"Positive," said Voldemort in annoyance, "Take her arm."

"Now?"

"No, Tuesday. Yes, now Dolohov!" snapped Voldemort.

"My Lord, this is hardly the tradition of my house," Antonin replied stiffly, looking over her critically.

He didn't have much interest in marriage in the first place, but there were certain customs and traditions that should be observed for propriety's sake. He was sure that no Dolohov had ever gotten married to a woman wearing whatever those awful skintight muggle pants were, and definitely not sporting a shapeless knitted potato sack, in some horrible maroon color. No Dolohov had been married without his relatives and Blood-brothers in attendance.

Then again, no Dolohov had been stupid enough to get involved with a Dark Lord before either.

"Well you're not in Russia. And you should be thanking me for gifting you with a Pureblood bride. Of, course… if you are ungrateful for that which your Lord gives you-"

"Of course not, my Lord. I beg your pardon", Antonin said quickly, scenting the dangerous edge in Voldemort's voice. This might be a slap in the face to tradition, but he certainly wasn't about to be killed over a few wedding customs.

He reached out and grabbed her forearm, anger making his grip unnecessarily tight. It would serve her right if she had bruises- why did the little chit have to go and get herself captured anyway? To his intense frustration, she tried to shake him off. Did she not understand that by rights she should be dead on the floor already? Her true parents may have been purebloods, but she was still a blood traitor of the worst sort.

He gave her a shake and growled, "Take my arm or die."

She narrowed her eyes, but at last took a deep breath and clasped his forearm. Ignatius Rookwood stepped forward and began the ceremony.

Antonin went through the motions of the ceremony as if he were in a dream, and in no time was walking out of the hall, still dragging his new bride by the arm.

Oh god, his _bride,_ he thought numbly as they disapparated. What the bloody hell was he supposed to do with a wife?

He felt a mad urge to laugh as he dragged her across the doorway of the Manor. This was a bit different to the way he'd imagined entering his marital life. He'd always had a vague imagine in his head of carrying a beautiful bride in a white dress carefully across the doorway of his ancestral home. Instead he was dragging an irate, bloody heathen girl.

He opened the door of his bedroom forcefully and pushed her inside. He hovered for a moment at the doorway, suddenly feeling awkward, as she stumbled across the room and pushed off the bed. To his surprise, he was visited by the urge to laugh again as she sprung up, ready to fight. How could this tiny thing think to take him on without even a wand?

"Oh, you are a hellcat," he said, feeling a bit of grudging respect. He'd expected her to cower or beg, not try to jump him. When she flinched and crouched into a fighting stance, he realized with a shock she was expecting him to try to rape her. What the hell did she think of him?

"We will not be fighting tonight, I do not take women against their will. I am from an honorable house," he stated angrily.

She snorted. Rage swept over Antonin again, hot and white. How dare this blood traitor insult his house- Did she think him some common thug?

"I am serious, little one," he growled, "You are my wife. I will do you no injury."

She didn't move, clearly not believing a word he said. He threw his arms up in frustration and stalked into the bathroom, slamming the door so hard it rattled in the frame. Once inside, he sunk down on the edge of the tub and put his head in his hands. He couldn't believe he was stuck with this woman for the rest of his life. She was already shaping up to be a real annoyance. She clearly had no respect for his House, or for him. After taking several deep, calming breaths he finally rose and began to wash his face.

Although Antonin had slept around the Death Eater ranks a fair amount when he was younger, he had never gotten particularly close with any of his sexual partners. He'd never even brought a fling back to his chambers. His commitment-phobia was actually a bit of a running joke among his friends, so the idea of marriage on the surface didn't exactly appeal to him. It wasn't helping that the hellcat he was shackled to didn't seem intent on making anything easy.

As he washed his face, Antonin reflected that perhaps he was being a bit unfair to her. After all, he _had_ tried to kill her. Twice. That would make most people suspicious. Maybe once he'd changed out of his Death Eater robes she'd be more willing to talk sensibly, or at least show a little respect.

To Antonin's surprise, when he left the bathroom some ten minutes later, Hermione was dead asleep on the bed. She was still fully clothed, her legs hanging off the side. Antonin paused, unsure what to do.

Should he get in bed with her? It seemed a bit creepy, but then again she was his wife. Should he put pajamas on her? Definitely creepy. Finally he decided to put her in the bed still in her clothes and get in next to her. After all, husbands and wives did traditionally share a bed, and Mopsy could change the sheets tomorrow.

He lifted her gently, anxious of her reaction should she wake up in his arms. She weighed almost nothing, and didn't even stir at being picked up. He supposed that she was truly exhausted, and the thought struck him that she had probably expected to be killed today. A wave of protectiveness swept over him, taking him by surprise. He put it down to his possessive nature, since she was technically his wife now, refusing to believe that the death of this fierce little thing would bother him for any other reason.

Antonin tucked her carefully under the covers, and swept a curl gently off of her face. He winced as the extent of the bruising on her face was revealed. Summoning a pot of Snape's best bruise slave, he worked it gently over her face, determined not to wake her. As an afterthought, he hit her with a cleaning charm too.

He was again surprised to notice that she was actually quite pretty without all the blood caking her face. With a sigh, Antonin climbed in next to her and rolled over, staring at the wall for a very long time indeed before sleep finally found him.


	6. Interview with Hermione Granger: 4

I woke up the next morning fully dressed under a what felt like a fluffy cloud. I didn't move or open my eyes, trying to take stock of the situation. I decided Dolohov must have put me to bed last night. Did he stun me or was I really that tired? Either way I seemed to be unscathed.

I couldn't hear or feel anything besides some insanely comfortable sheets. So much for super-spy tactics. I cracked an eye and saw an empty spot next to me where someone had clearly slept in the bed. Sitting up slowly, I scanned the room. It was deserted. I wrapped a blanket firmly around myself to ward off the morning chill and crept towards the bathroom. Not hearing any sounds from within, I cracked open the door and peeped in. It was empty too.

Not that I wasn't pleased with this turn of events, but where in the world was Dolohov? After a few seconds of indecision, I decided that I might as well go ahead and get ready for whatever I was going to face that day. The bathroom was beautiful, with a soft brown floor and walls that appeared to be made of live, red-barked trees. The green pine needles formed a ceiling through which light filtered. It was an amazing piece of magic, and I couldn't repress a smile as I walked in.

I pulled off my jumper and took a good, hard look at myself in the mirror. My face was surprisingly clean and bruise-free, although there was still an impressive green and yellow pattern across my ribs. I regarded my face with confusion, turning it this way and that to catch the light. I couldn't understand how there wasn't a hint of a bruise, when I knew for sure that the Death Eater who snatched me had hit me with a wild haymaker in retaliation for my trying to claw his eyes out.

Although it seemed odd, Dolohov must have healed me. I stared confusedly at my expression in the mirror, trying to recognize the surprisingly humane treatment I'd received from him with the man who'd almost killed me in the Department of Mysteries at 16. I shrugged, wincing as the movement stretched some sore muscles in my back. I attempted to run a hand through my disastrously frizzy mane of hair, but found to my disgust that there was blood caked in it. Deciding to save my curiosity about Dolohov's kind treatment for a later moment, I let my jeans fall to the floor and stepped into the shower.

As I stood under the waterfall shower rinsing shampoo out of my nest of hair, a snarky voice interrupted my shower.

"Tisk tisk Hermione, just getting up at 11 are we?"

I squeaked and grabbed a towel just as Snape walked into the bathroom.

"What the hell, Severus?" Snape's eyebrow raised in a sardonic smirk.

"Apparently marriage brings on sloth. Get moving. I need you in the lab."

"Really?"

"Indeed. I have told the Dark Lord your assistance would be invaluable for my potions work."

"Brilliant! I can't believe I'm allowed out of the room. Where's Dolohov?"

"Lovestruck already are we?" I hurled a bar of soap at him, which he didn't duck fast enough. "Touchy, touchy. He's on assignment, back tonight".

"Thank goodness! Let me put my clothes back on and I'll be right with you." I looked at my pile of dirty clothes, covered in whatever had been on the floor of Malfoy Manor last night. "I don't suppose I could use my wand?"

Snape laughed sarcastically. "Not a chance in hell. In addition to that, you will be bound within 10 feet of my person at all times outside this room. Trust me girl," he added at the look on my face, "I don't relish the thought any more than you do."

He turned his back to leave, and then turned back to my pile of clothes.

 _"Scourgify!"_

...

In the subterranean potions laboratory, I carefully added Eye of Lionfish to the potion at regular 40 second intervals, which gave me plenty of time to ask questions- one of my favorite ways to pass time. I had already discovered that I was in the Lestrange Manor, that Moody was fine, and that Harry had been given three doses of calming draught so far.

"Madame Dolohov, you are as inquisitive as ever." Severus snarked. I shot him an angry look. I'd been trying all day to avoid thinking about the fact that I was married to a Death Eater for the rest of my life, or at least until one of us managed to kill the other.

"That is your name now, girl, and you would do well to remember it, as it will complicate your mission. Dolohov does not share. There are Death Eaters who would have been content to have their mistresses on the side, and let you do as you please. I suspect Dolohov is not one of them. He guards fiercely what he considers his."

"We haven't even slept together yet."

Snape raised an eyebrow in surprise, "Nevertheless, it would be exceedingly dangerous to have him find out that you are…. carrying on… behind his back. And that need for secrecy raises other concerns."

I nodded, quick on the uptake as always, "That means that other Death Eaters could hold our affairs over my head as leverage, or expose me in a ploy to embarrass Dolohov."

"Precisely. His insecurity is a weakness for both of you."

I snorted wryly. What type of messed-up world did we live in where wanting your spouse to be faithful was a liability? We were both quiet for a while as we strategized.

At last, Snape nodded. "What you need is something public, something that will make it clear to every man here that being caught with Dolohov's wife will a fatal mistake, regardless of who initiated it."

"But how am I supposed to do that without losing Dolohov's trust?" I ignored the pang in my chest at the though of betraying the man who had been oddly kind to me. I tried to tell myself that I was just concerned for the success of the mission, but self-delusion's never been a strong point for me.

Snape treated me to his best sardonic smirk. "You're the brightest witch of your age, aren't you? Think of something."


	7. Interview with Hermione Granger: 5

By the time I returned to my room it was dark outside and I smelled to high heaven of antelope dung. I shivered to imagine what Voldemort wanted with a Giggling Draught. I still hadn't gotten any closer to developing my plan, but I'd enjoyed feeling busy.

Dolohov was waiting for me in a chair by the fire. Even sitting down, he seemed to barely fit in the spacious wingback. If his shoulders had been any wider, they would have gotten stuck.

"Is past time for dinner," he grumbled.

"Well I'm sorry. I'd have left earlier but seeing as I'm a prisoner, I had to wait for Snape," I snapped, too tired to be properly afraid of him.

"What do you mean wait?"

"He tied me to him with a ten foot spell all day. I'd assumed that was your doing."

"Idiot. The estate wards won't let you leave the grounds. The bedroom wards are for your safety, not to prevent escape."

I decided to skip over the reason for the bedroom wards for now, "So then I don't need to go around like a puppy on a leash?"

"Of course not. You may yet be a blood traitor, but you are of House Dolohov now. Still, I suppose Severus choses to air on the side of caution and avoid provoking me. He is not complete fool," stated Dolohov matter-of-factly.

I suppressed a shiver at the way that this man automatically assumed that a powerful, manipulative bastard like Snape would fear him.

Dolohov looked me over critically, his eyebrows drawing together, "What the hell are you wearing?"

I looked down at my discolored jeans and old jumper. Not my sexiest look.

"What I was wearing when I was _kidnapped_ off the street by some snake-worshiping creeps," I snapped.

"Do not test me, little girl. And put on something less awful so we can go down and eat."

I sighed, "Dolohov, I don't know if you secretly fancy women's clothing, but I didn't exactly bring a suitcase."

Dolohov's annoyance seemed to fade slightly, "Ah I see. The elves should have told you. I have Parkinson's old wardrobe here for you."

I remembered hearing something about Buckbeak killing Parkinson in a battle a few years ago. Good riddance. From what I remembered of her fashion sense in school, I was expecting a storm of pink fluff. I cringed upon opening the closet, but everything looked surprisingly stylish. I suppose we'd all grown up.

It was a huge walk-in, so I pulled the door to behind me and picked a simple pair of burgundy robes off of a hanger. It probably wasn't smart to antagonize anyone by wearing Gryffindor colors. On the other hand, I reflected wryly as I pulled them on, a smart woman wouldn't be here. I was pleased with the overall effect- they must be spelled to fit themselves to the wearer. In fact, they were nicer than any robes I'd ever bought myself. It can't hurt to enjoy the little perks, right?

On the other hand, without the aid of my wand, my hair was the same curly rat's nest as ever. Nonetheless, I felt much better as I sauntered out of the closet. I felt a moment of frustration as Antonin got up without even looking at me and swept towards the door. I followed calmly, not willing to let him rush me.

Dinner wasn't as bad as I'd feared. Thanks to Severus's information, I knew now that the Malfoys and Dolohov were permanently residing at the Lestrange Manor, as Malfoy Manor had turned into Voldemort's base of operations. I was grateful for the forewarning that allowed me to look unruffled as I saw Bellatrix for the first time. She was sitting at the table eating an entire roast chicken off of a serving fork. The rest of the table looked disgusted.

"Hello, Poppet!" she cried out in a creepy parody of joy, "How was the honeymoon?"

I knew she was expecting me to respond with an obscenity and decided to throw them off kilter. "Good evening, Madame Lestrange." I rejoined cooly. I sat down and delicately settled my napkin in my lap, waiting for Antonin to join me before I started eating. "Madame Malfoy, I apologize for our lateness." Narcissa and Lucius simultaneously raised an eyebrow. I wondered if they'd practiced that.

There was a long, awkward silence as everyone stared at me. I allowed myself to eat calmly and politely as I distracted myself with images of Bellatrix being trampeld by a dragon.

Finally, Malfoy Sr. made a brave stab at conversation, and gradually the diners started chatting. Nobody spoke to me, but I saw all of them shooting surreptitious glances. Antonin only responded in monosyllabic grunts when spoken to. He seemed to be restraining himself from an outburst.

Although I didn't participate, I gathered much from the conversation. Apparently a gang of snatchers were staying in the "servants' quarters", but had not been invited to dinner. Much of the discussion consisted of poking fun at their low-class behavior, which I found ironic given Bellatrix's appalling table manners. In addition to that, I learned that Daphne Greengrass and Malfoy Jr. would be arriving Friday.

From what my intel told me, Greengrass hadn't really gotten involved in the cause, claiming delicate health, but her parents were big supporters. I wondered if there was a marriage with Malfoy Jr in the offing. As dinner ended, Antonin directed a polite comment about the food to Narcissa and pulled out my chair carefully. I took his proffered hand and stood up. To be honest, I was surprised by his manners. I'd expected Death Eaters to be dancing on the tables worshipping the devil or something. Besides Bellatrix, who seemed to disgust her companions, everyone else was surprisingly polite.

"Will you take coffee, Lady Dolohov?" A house elf popped out of thin air next to me and gestured to a small side table where a pot and cups had suddenly appeared.

"She will not," Replied Dolohov, "We are going up".

"Toni can't wait to get that robe back off her!" cackled Bellatrix, slurring slightly after her 4th cup of wine.

Antonin's face was like thunder. He didn't even draw his wand, but brought his hand up and slammed her against the opposite wall. "You will respect my Lady Wife. She is none of your concern." He bit out, smiling ferociously as Bellatrix choked, apparently still under his spell. Rabastan strode forward, grabbing his arm.

"Enough Antonin! Surely you can tell Bella is just making a friendly jest."

"It is not seemly. You know better, Rabastan, as should she." To my utter shock, Rabastan flushed deeply. Nonetheless, Dolohov released her and she slid to the floor.

We didn't talk all the way back to the bedroom, and I hovered uncertainly just inside the door when we returned. Dolohov heaved a sigh as he sunk down into an armchair by the fire. After a few seconds of sitting with eyes closed, he looked back up at me.

"Ugh. Sit down, girl. Don't stand there like a scared chit."

I sat in the other arm chair, stiffly waiting to see what he would do next.

He narrowed his eyes. "Look, girl, I didn't want you. I don't really know what to do with you. Just make yourself comfortable and stay out of my way."

"Okay," I whispered. Dolohov looked relieved and picked up the book he'd left open on the arm of the chair.

I sneaked a glance at the cover. _Trans-substantive potioneering._ Not a total moron then. And not bad looking, really. He was not at all what I'd expected of the man who'd nearly killed me at fifteen. In addition to that, he didn't seem eager to defile me by force. It wouldn't do to seem like I'd cracked yet, but when it did come time to seduce him I didn't doubt I'd enjoy it.

My eyes roved from Dolohov to the books lining the wall. There were several that I was desperate to read, but I wasn't sure if I was allowed to touch them. I wanted to ask, but decided not to antagonize him just yet.

After a few minutes, Dolohov stalked into the bathroom and shut the door. I sneaked a glance behind me and then darted over to the bookshelf. I just wanted to have a quick look at _Secreta magicis ericius._ I shoved the book guiltily back onto the shelf as he exited the bathroom and whirled around.

Dolohov let out a short, booming laugh. "You can read the books, _mishka._ You are my wife, my library is yours."

Oh yes, this wouldn't be so bad after all.


	8. Interview with Hermione Granger: 6

In the next week, Dolohov and I existed in a companionable silence. We read together at night, ate breakfast together in the room and were ignored by the other diners at dinner. I helped Severus during the day. If I survived this, I was starting to think I'd like to take a Potions Mastery. We slept on opposite sides of the bed. He studiously ignored the way I moved closer to his warmth in the chill of the night, and was out of bed before me every morning. I figured he was going to exercise since he always came back sweaty and red from the wind. More than once, I wondered if there was a Death Eater Fitness Center.

By Friday, my plan was in place. I'd complied a list in my head of suitable victims, men who I felt certain the world would be better off without. It's war, after all. Sometimes people get killed. I didn't really think it would come to that, surely Snape had been exaggerating, but better safe than sorry.

Now all that remained was to see who fell into my hands. I reminded myself to be patient and let the right opportunity arise. With that in mind, I dressed quickly to give myself what I judged to be a ten-minute head start on Antonin. He had just gotten in the shower, and I could hear him humming something softly over the running water.

"Dolohov, can I go down to breakfast? I'm famished!"

He growled his assent and a soapy paw reached out of the shower to point his wand at the door wards. They dropped with a crackle and I stepped out the door. As I entered the main hallway, I spotted Scabior entering the kitchen, the door before the main dining room. Making sure nobody could see me, I treated myself to an evil smirk. If I wasn't careful I'd turn into a mini-Snape and take to sweeping around in billowing black robes. But really, it _was_ too perfect. If anyone deserved what was about to happen, it was this little shit.

I stroked the freckle on my wrist, turning my pheromone emitters up to the highest setting. I'd been warned not to use this setting, as it could make the weaker-willed lose all control. Then again, that was kind of the point. I slipped into the kitchen behind him. I couldn't sense the pheromones myself, but I was sure they'd reach him quickly in the cramped space. I felt the warmth of the implant and was certain it was working. I glanced over myself and decided to loosen one more lace on my robes. Can't hurt after all. Scabior had his back to me and seemed to be stealing from the liquor cabinet. At 8 am. Scumbag. He hadn't noticed me yet, but I'd soon remedy that.

I'd dressed carefully for this morning in a fine acromantula silk robe of a soft, velvety green. In addition to draping my curves in an attractive way without being obviously tight anywhere, I suspected it would rip quite easily to add some drama. It had long, conservative sleeves attached to a bustier top which showed just the right amount of cleavage. I knew I looked damn good without seeming like I was trying.

I knelt down on the hearth rug and scratched the new puppies behind the ears. They were still just tiny, black balls of wrinkles. "You did good, mama," I told the huge black hound who was nursing them. She rewarded me with a enthusiastic lick to the face, and I squealed with laughter. Scabior whirled around in surprise, and then fixed me with a predatory smile. I didn't get up yet, letting him tower over me, with a good view down the front of my robes.

" 'Ello beautiful" he said slowly, smirking.

I rolled my eyes internally. Honestly, is that the only line he has?

I straightened up and didn't have to fake my body's reaction to press myself against the wall, as far from him as possible. "Hello, Scabior."

He stalked closer. "It's been a while, poppet."

"Not long enough."

"Oh, now don't tell me didn' enjoy it." His eyes were black with lust and he was breathing heavily. I allowed myself to look around wildly, but didn't make a break for it. I estimated I still had 5 minutes until Antonin showed up.

Scabior closed the distance between us and pressed himself against me. I fought the urge to vomit as I felt his hot breath on my face. One of his disgusting hands reached for my cheek and I tried to break free.

Scabior gave a cold laugh and pinned my arms to the wall by my side. "Wha's the rush my beauty?" he slurred. Oh fuck. The alcohol would probably increase the reaction to the pheromones, but I couldn't reach my wrists to turn them off. This was going to escalate much more quickly than I'd planned for.

"Let me go, Scabior. Dolohov will kill you."

"Ahhh yes. I heard you'd found another Death Eater. Weren't enough for you, were I? Well we'll see abou' that," Without warning, he attacked my neck and started slobbering on it. No longer acting, I tried to push him off with my legs, but was well and truly trapped. 2 more minutes. I was desperate to free my arms and turn off the pheromones. I couldn't let Dolohov save me until the air had cleared or he might suspect something.

Scabior released my arm to rip the bodice of my robes open (I was right, one corner of my brain noted, that did give easily). Seizing the opportunity I brushed my fingers against the freckles on my wrist and felt the implant go cool. Before Scabior could touch me further, I scratched him across the face and screamed at the top of my voice, "ANTONIN!"

To my dismay, Scabior hissed in pain but didn't release me. He slammed me back against the wall with such force that it knocked the air out of my lungs. Before I could breathe again, he hit me with a _silencio_ . I found myself pinned to the wall again and I could feel his erection digging into my thigh.

Tears streamed down my face as I realized that I'd screwed up. Antonin wasn't coming, and this bastard was going to rape me. Again. I looked around desperately for any means of escape and spotted a block of knives. If I could just get him to release an arm…

However, Scabior was one step ahead of me. He grabbed both of my wrists in one hand and stuck them to the wall above us with a charm. He leaned back slightly to admire the picture I made, stuck to the wall with my dress ripped open. I swore to myself I would kill this bastard if it was the last thing I did.

BANG! The kitchen door slammed against the wall and Antonin came flying into the room. His wand was in his hand and murder was in his eyes. A pack of other Death Eaters stood in the doorway behind him.

"TY CHE, BLYAD?" Antonin roared.

Before Scabior could respond, he was blasted away from me and plastered onto the opposite wall. His head hit it with a sickening crack and he slid down.

"RENERVATE" roared Dolohov. I didn't want to watch what came next. Sure I'd wished Scabior dead, but in an abstract way. I've seen a lot of people get tortured, and it never gets less awful.

Thankfully, Daphne rush forward and unstuck me from the wall. She wrapped me up in her cloak and pulled me away from the scene. As Scabior's screams filled the kitchen, she hustled me out under her arm. We pushed through the shocked crowd and she didn't say a word to me as she hustled me up to Antonin's rooms. I stumbled numbly along with her. Merlin, why did I think I could handle this?

When we got inside, she turned to me and tried to slip my robes off. I flinched away instinctively and she made a shushing noise. "It's okay Hermione, I'm just helping you get into the bath. You're a right mess." I supposed I was. Even though I had barely known her at Hogwarts years ago, I didn't think twice about trusting her. In fact, I'd stopped thinking or feeling at all. I stripped off my dress and undergarments. I suppose I should have been embarrassed, but at that moment I didn't really care.

Daphne gave me a small smile and held out her hand to me. I took it and she lowered me into the bath tub. As it filled up with warm water, she handed me a bottle from Antonin's cabinet. "Calming solution," she explained "Just take a little sip." I did as she ordered, although I felt very calm. Maybe too calm. Could that be shock? I couldn't even feel the warmth of the bath tub water.

After a moment, I felt a little trickle of warmth slide down my throat, like drinking hot chocolate in a snow storm. Gradually the feeling returned to my body, and my emotions as well. I felt the shame, the anger, the fear and all the rest of it, but I was able to separate myself from them, examine them and acknowledge them calmly.

"Can I wash your hair?" Daphne asked me once the tub was full.

"You don't have to do that."

"Let me. There's blood all in it"

"Blood?"

"I think you have a head wound, but I can't see it through this mess." She gave me a tentative smile, clearly not sure if she should be cracking jokes yet.

I smiled back. "Story of my life."

With a quiet laugh, Daphne began shampooing my hair, feeling gently across my scalp to find the injury. I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy it, trying not to think about the man being tortured in the kitchen.

Suddenly, Daphne touched a tender spot and I hissed quietly. "Oh yes I see it now. Very shallow, don't worry. Head wounds tend to bleed more than others. I'll fix it up for you. _Saludio._ "

As Daphne finished washing my hair, the door to the bathroom flew open and Dolohov stormed in, looking around wildly. When his gaze fell on us, he froze. For the first time since I'd met him, he seemed wrong footed. I swear he blushed. He turned his back on us and stood hulking in the doorway. With a start, I realized his robes were covered with blood.

Daphne exchanged an unsure glance with me, and at my nod she stood up. "I'll just be going then. Hermione's still got some bruises on her back that need to be seen to".

Dolohov didn't move a muscle as she squeezed past him in the doorway and hurried away. I heard the bedroom door shut, but Dolohov still didn't budge.

The calming draught was wearing off now, and I was starting to feel ashamed. I knew I shouldn't, but knowing and feeling are two different things. Was Dolohov angry at me? Was he refusing to acknowledge me?

"Dolohov?" I tried. He grunted. I wanted to get out of the tub, to talk to him on level ground, but he was blocking the towels. Absurdly, I realized he'd never seen me naked. I gathered my Gryffindor courage around me and stood up from the bath. His back tensed.

"I need a towel" I whispered.

He wordlessly threw one at me, still not looking at me. I toweled off quickly and wrapped myself up. I walked up behind him, and he finally moved, walking ahead of me into the bedroom. I made to scurry into my closet, but he growled, "Stop." Even from that one word, I could tell he was furious.

I froze, not daring to turn around. Dolohov closed the gap between us and it took everything I had not to tremble before him. Was he furious at me? Was he going to kill me? I could smell the blood from his robes.

"You're covered in blood," I blurted out. I slapped my hand to my mouth. Couldn't my inner know-it-all ever shut up?

To my surprise, Antonin said in a softer voice, "Don't move"

I took him at his word and heard the sounds of clothes hitting the ground. He vanished the robes, cast a scourgify on himself and came back towards me. I still didn't turn around, not sure if I could handle an angry, naked Russian head on. To my relief, I head " _accio_ " and saw a pair of pajama bottoms zip past my face.

"Sit," Dolohov ordered. I sat on the bed, still facing away from him. For a long moment, nobody moved. Suddenly I gasped and flinched as I felt a huge, warm hand trace gently over the abrasions down my back to the top of my towel. Again, there was silence.

Screw this. I am a Gryffindor. If he's going to kill me I'm going to be looking him in the eye when he does it. I turned around and looked at him, absurdly aware of how muscular his chest was. "You're angry?" I asked rhetorically.

"Yes."

Suddenly I realized that along with fear, I felt ashamed. Not of what had just happened, or of being practically naked on a bed with him, but of betraying his trust. I was seized by a sudden urge to tell him everything. I clamped down on that. _Come on Granger, don't get soft._

I settled on part of the truth. "I'm so sorry."

Antonin looked shocked. "Why are _you_ sorry?"

Now I was genuinely confused. "What happened… in the kitchen. I'm your wife. And another man…"

He took my hand in a surprisingly gentle grip. It swallowed mine up. "Hermione, it is I who should be sorry. I who did not protect you."

This was not what I'd been expecting at all. All my past experiences had taught me that he should be furious at me, for brining it upon myself, for not fighting harder, for letting another man touch me before he'd had the chance. I shook my head to clear it of my memories.

"You're not angry at me?"

To my surprise he gathered me up in a hug and pressed me to his chest, wet hair and all. "Of course not, _mishka_. What kind of man do you think I am? You were attacked. From the marks on that scum's face I see you even fought bravely."

I didn't say anything, but I found myself leaning into him. This was the most I'd ever heard him say.

At last, he gently set me back on the bed and strode away from me. I heard him mumbling, half to himself. "I take this girl as my wife. Then I leave her in a house of vipers with no wand, no protection. Idiot. But now they learned, did they not? You do not fuck with Dolohovs."

I shivered and decided on the spot I didn't want to know what had happened to Scabior. Dolohov returned with a small, green pot of something.

"I will fix up your back. Lie face down." I complied, feeling exposed in only a short, white towel. I could still see Dolohov out of the corner of my eye and he unscrewed the little pot. I closed my eyes as I felt his callused hands pull the towel down to just above my bottom.

"Dolohov, what?"

"Antonin," he corrected gently, "I'm just put some bruise salve."

I shivered as the cold air hit my back, but in an instant I felt his fingers rubbing warm lotion into my shoulder. His fingers were gentler than I ever expected as he slowly worked his way across my back. The warmth was seeping into my muscles and I felt surprisingly relaxed. Coming off the adrenaline high of the last hour, I suddenly felt boneless.

"Do not worry, little one" he murmured, "I will make the pain go away."

I sighed, and he shifted slightly. As Dolohov's fingers continued to push into my tissue, I realized that the position we were in was shockingly intimate. All he'd have to do was roll me over, slide down the towel, and… No, I didn't need to think about that right now. However, once those images had appeared in my head, I couldn't shake them. I could feel myself getting wet. _Dear Merlin,_ I realized, _I'm so turned on right now. What is wrong with me?_

Too soon, Dolohov reached the small of my back and pulled the towel up over me. I sat up, pulling the front of the towel to my chest. He sat looking at me, a look of concern etched on his face.

"Hermione, do you need a contracept-"

"-Merlin, no!" I interrupted. "No, he didn't get that far."

Dolohov's shoulders sagged with relief. "Good."

Suddenly, without thinking, I leaned forward and kissed him. It was a soft kiss, and he froze for a second. I was about to pull back, thinking I'd misjudged, when he pulled me towards him and kissed back with dizzying fervor. In a matter of seconds I found myself on his lap, straddling him and kissing him with equal passion. I moaned as he fisted a hand in my hair and tipped my head back. Dolohov chuckled darkly against my lips. He kissed me again, softly and then sat back, holding me still on his lap.

"Don't stop," I begged.

He treated me to a rare smile. "I think we must, _mishka_. Today is not the day."

I shifted angrily on his lap, a little embarrassed to have appeared so eager. Dolohov groaned and his hands tightened on my waist. He leaned forward and growled in my ear, "When you are all healed, little one, I will show show you what happens when you grind against me like that." His voice shot straight the the hot ache between my thighs. I could only whimper quietly in response.

Like I weighted nothing at all, Dolohov stood up still holding me against him, pulled back the covers and dropped me unceremoniously in the bed. He wordlessly handed me a vial of dreamless sleep and smoothed the covers over my body. I looked at the vial and decided that I'd just process whatever the hell had happened this morning when I woke up.


	9. From the memories of Antonin Dolohov: 2

Antonin sat bolt upright in bed, clutching a glass of whiskey so hard his knuckles were going white. He didn't know whether he wanted to go out and kill someone or pull the curly-haired witch into his arms and never let her go.

He still couldn't say he liked the girl, but damn it... she was his wife. In addition to having an explosive temper, Antonin Dolohov was a possessive man by nature. He had grown up in a vicious, cutthroat family. Anyone who didn't firmly stake a claim on what was theirs would have it ripped away from them. He had spent the whole week silently seething every time Lestrange's eyes followed his wife out of the room.

A slow, vicious smile curled across his face at the thought that after today's display, Lestrange would think twice about giving Hermione the eye. The woman in question made a soft noise and turned over, moving closer to him in her sleep. His posture softened slightly as he looked down at her. Although he still had no real desire to be married, he couldn't deny that she had earned his respect over the past week.

He had been impressed against his will when she strode into the dining room on that first day as if she owned the place. Despite having been raised by muggles, the natural poise she exuded was something that most pureblood women only dreamed of. He could imagine how furious she was to be stuck here, and would be shocked if she wasn't plotting an escape. Nonetheless, she kept her cool and had a pokerface to rival that of Narcissa Malfoy. Antonin knew only too well that women like that were the most dangerous kind, because they gave no warning before they struck.

She was certainly a contrast to the string of vapid, clinging witches he had bedded. For the first time in his life, he found himself unsure how to break the ice with her. She seemed perfectly content to coexist alongside him without speaking a word. He'd been expecting her to plead to be let go, or try to bargain with him. But infuriatingly, she made no such demands. He had opened his mouth at least twenty times this week, in the morning at breakfast or as they read at night, to break the silence but hadn't ever managed to get any words out.

The first day he had seen her cleaned and dressed in proper witches' robes he had immediately wanted to tear them back off her. He'd fantasized by now about taking her hard on every surface in their bedroom. But what could he say to her?

 _"I'm glad I did not succeed in murdering you those two times. Want to get naked?"_

 _"I bet you've got scar from where I cursed you. Let me see it, and that fantastic pair of tits while I'm at it?_

It didn't help that he always felt tongue-tied in English. The words just didn't come out of his mouth properly. They were all the wrong shape, and he knew his grammar was abominable. He also knew that nobody ever corrected him for fear of triggering his legendary temper.

She had certainly warmed up to him tonight, though. He felt himself grow hard as he thought about slipping her towel down to expose the tanned skin of her bare back. He had almost lost all control at the feel of her taught muscles and soft skin. Antonin groaned softly as her words replayed themselves in his head, " _Please don't stop."_ His whole body throbbed as he remembered the blush that stole across her face after that.

He let himself look at her now, really look at her. Her face was relaxed, lacking the controlled wariness it usually held during the day. She had a light dusting of freckles across her nose, and her riotous hair curled around her head like a halo. Her skin was an olive color, and he wondered if the Vance family had Mediterranean roots. She might not be considered a classical beauty, but even in sleep there was something arresting about her.

"Fuck," he groaned softly. Antonin skolled the rest of the whiskey and climbed carefully out of bed and walked into the bathroom. As he turned on a cold shower, he cursed every gentlemanly instinct that had kept him from ripping her towel off tonight.

"She was probably in shock," he told himself sternly as he stepped under the cold spray. Still, he smiled to himself. Perhaps it was a start.


	10. Interview With Hermione Granger: 7

When I awoke, the sky outside the window was streaked with pink-red clouds. I wasn't sure if it was sunrise or sunset. I looked around the room and was surprised to find Daphne curled up in one of the wingback chairs by the fire. I sat up slowly and she carefully placed the book she'd been reading on the table next to her before crossing the room to sit on the end of my bed.

"How are you feeling?" she queried.

"Surprisingly okay," I lied smoothly.

Daphne raised an eyebrow but didn't push it any more than that. "Glad to hear it."

"Is it morning or night?" I asked, indicating the fiery sky.

"Night. Antonin asked me to sit in with you; he was called away by You-know-who, but didn't want you to wake up alone." I registered with interest that she hadn't called him the Dark Lord. Perhaps not a terribly ardent follower?

"Thank you, I do appreciate it. I hope you weren't too bored,"

"Not at all. I was just reading Tugwood's newest book. She has the most fascinating theory about the interactions of lunar herbs and those in the Lamiaceae family."

"Really?" I asked, feeling a spark of genuine interest. Daphne seemed to sense I didn't want to talk about what had happened that morning, and let herself be sidetracked.

We settled by the fire and began a heated discussion of this idea, followed by other recent potions theories. We were so engrossed in our chat that before we noticed, night had fallen. Finally, Daphne looked out the window and exclaimed, "Oh no! You must be starving. And me here talking your ear off about potions!"

"I didn't notice- I was thoroughly enjoying it!" I assured her with a genuine grin. It was true. Talking with Daphne was the first time in weeks that I'd forgotten about the war and the mission hanging over my head.

"Well I can't let you starve to death. Antonin would never forgive me," she chuckled. "Mopsy!"

A tiny elf, wrapped in what appeared to be a hearth rug, appeared with a crack. "How can Mopsy be helping Miss Daphne and Mistress Hermione?"

"Could you please bring us some of whatever was served for dinner?"

Mopsy tisked. "Mopsy will not be bringing nasty old leftovers, no. Mopsy will bring proper dinner for the young ladies," she asserted. And before either of us could respond, she was gone.

Daphne sighed resignedly, "She thinks I'm too skinny. You'll see- she'll bring up a roast ox."

Several hours later, after Daphne and I had stuffed ourselves to bursting at Mopsy's insistence, I was back in bed. Daphne and Mopsy had both been firm in the belief that I should get more sleep. However, now that they had left, my mind started whirring at a hundred miles an hour. I found myself agonizing over everything from what my next steps should be, to what my moral responsibility was towards Scabior's death. On the one hand, it was war. I'd killed people before and I would probably kill again. On the other, I had lured him to what I imagine was a horribly violent end. And then snogged his executioner. On top of that, I'd had a lovely afternoon with Daphne and hadn't thought about his death once. What kind of screwed up person did that make me?

The other question that kept popping up, no matter how often I reminded myself that I really shouldn't care either way, was 'Where the hell is Dolohov?' I wondered if it was norming for Voldemort to send him on overnight missions. I couldn't help imagining him hurt somewhere, alone. At what point should I be concerned if he didn't come back? And what would happen to me if that occurred?

Finally I resigned myself to the fact that my body wasn't ready to sleep yet. I took the comforter with me and ensconced myself in one of the wingbacks by the fire. I wasn't waiting up for Dolohov, I told myself. I was just having a late-night reading session.

I woke up the next morning feeling incredibly stiff, to the unwelcome sight of Snape towering over me. However much I grew to respect the man, I just couldn't quite avoid the initial shudder every time I saw him. What can I say... bats just creep me out.

"Was there something wrong with your marital bed, Madame Dolohov? Too empty perhaps?" Snape smirked.

"Oh stuff it," I groused. "I fell asleep reading."

"Naturally." Snape drawled, turning the word into about ten syllables.

"Just give me five minutes to get ready," I yawned, hauling myself out of the chair.

Snape settled himself in the other one, "Very well. I'll order breakfast to your rooms while I wait, if that is agreeable to you."

"Sure," I called over my shoulder as I dashed into the bathroom. I knew Severus would find a thousand ways to make my day unpleasant if I made him wait too long.

Luckily I'd developed a very low-maintenance routine on the run with Harry and Ron the year before, so I was out of the shower and dressed in under five minutes. I plopped down in the chair opposite Severus and grabbed a piece of toast.

"Hit my hair with a drying charm, will you?" I requested, since I still wasn't allowed to carry a wand.

Snape obliged, and I felt my hair frizz instantly. Judging by Snape's wide-eyed expression, I knew it must be pretty bad.

"I'm not a potions beaker, Severus!" I squeaked indignantly, "Don't you know any beauty charms?"

Severus turned a very interesting shade of puce, but didn't respond. I suppose he didn't like being at a disadvantage in any area, even this one.

"Oh, give me your wand. I'll show you!" I grumbled.

With my hair properly subdued, I returned the wand to Severus and attacked my breakfast in earnest.

"Slow down, girl!" chided Severus, "I won't vanish it before you're done."

I gulped down a huge mouthful before I could respond, "Sorry! I know I'm late and you want to get stared early."

"Madame... Hermione. That's not why I'm here. While I would appreciate your assistance in the lab, I first wanted to check on you."

I gave him a look of surprise. Severus and I had never been particularly close. I'd defended him vehemently to the rest of the Order once I found out he was innocent, but that had been on principle. In fact, I'd always thought he rather resented needing my defense at all.

"Oh," I finally managed, "Well I'm fine. Just a little shaken up."

"I'm glad to hear it. So...I take it yesterday was on purpose?"

"Well, more or less. It got out of control pretty quickly, but I think it will have the desired effect."

"I think you rather overshot the desired effect. Certainly, nobody will ever be telling Dolohov that they were... _involved_ with you. However, you may have precious few takers after this. Men might brave a spot of light torture to get laid, but few want to die for it."

"You don't think that will just make them insist on secrecy?"

"Perhaps. But you'd have to be an idiot of monumental proportions to risk getting murdered for a bit of skirt."

"Well I hope you underestimate how many of your compatriots are idiots, then."

Snape, wonder of wonders, smiled, "Well when you put it like that I suppose you've got a chance."

We both sat quietly for a moment, thinking.

"So," I finally asked, "Who are the high-value targets?"


	11. Interview with Hermione Granger: 8

After a long day's work in the lab, Snape and I were headed back up the stairs to the main house.

"Severus, do I really have to come to dinner?" I whined.

"Unless you'd rather not eat." Severus answered waspishly. We were both tired.

Grumbling, I followed him into the dining room, where everyone else was just settling into seats. I looked around but found no sign of Dolohov. Nobody else seemed concerned by his extended absence, so I decided not to mention it. I hoped he hadn't gotten in some kind of trouble over Scabior. The man hadn't been a proper Death Eater, but still perhaps Voldemort was angry about his demise.

There were two seats left open at the table, and to my dismay, they were next to Malfoy Sr and Bellatrix. Sadly, Daphne was all the way at the other end, so an actually enjoyable dinner conversation didn't look likely. Deciding on the lesser of two evils, I sank into a chair next to Malfoy and let Snape take the chair on my other side, next to Bellatrix.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," I greeted him. Sure, he made my skin crawl, but my parents had taught me manners.

To my surprise, he offered me a smirk in return, "Good evening, Madame Dolohov. We missed you at breakfast this morning."

"I do apologize. I'm afraid after all that happened yesterday, I overslept a bit."

"Naturally, naturally. A most trying day for you I'm sure."

 _Not as trying as it was for Scabior,_ I thought. Aloud I said, "Yes, it was rather. Fortunately I've had work with Severus to keep my mind off it."

"Ahh yes, Severus did mention you had some small talent with potions." I gritted my teeth.

"Well, I enjoy it at any rate," I replied calmly. "Do you brew at all, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Oh, hardly at all," he replied in a equally breezy tone. "Gripworm's Apothecary has an excellent selection, and for a man of my means it simply isn't worth my time to brew my own." I groaned internally. Could the Malfoys not go one conversation without mentioning the size of their Gringott's account? Honestly, it almost made you think they were compensating for a deficit in... other areas.

I returned a polite smile, "Of course, many of the potions the Dark Lord needs can't be entrusted to an apothecary."

"Naturally," returned Mr. Malfoy, "There are also certain potions I prefer to brew myself."

"Indeed?" I asked politely, not at all sure that I wanted to know where this was going, since I knew firsthand the sort of things that went on in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor.

Malfoy gave me a wide, somewhat predatory smile and lowered his voice, "Oh, yes. After all, Narcissa might wonder why it is that I wasn't sharing my sensory enhancement potions with her," he raised an eyebrow suggestively.

My cheeks flamed and I looked quickly at my plate. I knew from the whispered gossip in my old dorm back at Hogwarts that sensory enhancement potions were what muggles would call a sex-aid. They enhanced pleasure, and allowed each partner to feel not just their own sensations, but those of their partner as well.

I darted a glance back up at Malfoy, and he seemed to be reveling in my obvious discomfort. Seeking to bring the conversation back on to less dangerous ground, I said a little too loudly, "This wine is delicious, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy placed his hand on my shoulder, "My dear girl, if we are to be together in this house, you must call me Lucius."

I nearly choked out, "The wine is wonderful then, Lucius."

"I shall have to take you on a walk around the vineyard some day," he smiled that predatory smile again.

Luckily, I was saved any further consternation by the disappearance of the salad and the appearance of the main course.

For the rest of the meal, I participated halfheartedly in a conversation with Severus about who-knows-what. My mind was spinning. Surely Lucius Malfoy was not coming on to me less than 24 hours after watching my husband's reaction to the last man I'd gotten involved with. This must be a trap, but I couldn't imagine what kind. What was his goal here?

As dinner ended, I snagged Snape before he could return to his chambers, "Severus, would you mind walking me back to my room? I'm afraid I can't get in without Dolohov, and he still seems to be away."

Snape nodded grumpily and swept me up the stairs with him. When we reached my rooms, Snape lowered the wards with a wave of his wand and turned to go. Before he could leave, I swept a look up and down the hallway and pulled him into my room.

"What in the world are you thinking, Hermione?"

"Need your advice." I responded tersely.

"Have you any idea what Dolohov will do to me if he finds me in your rooms late at night?" Severus grumbled.

"Yes, well I intend for you to keep your pants on."

"As do I, but he seems like a man to jump to conclusions."

"Well, sit down and stop looking guilty then."

Snape reluctantly sunk into a chair and sighed, "So what is all this about?"

I quickly recounted the events at dinner. Once I'd finished, Snape said nothing but looked thoughtful.

"Well," I prodded, "What do you think? It's obvious it's a trap, but I can't work out what his angle is."

Snape shrugged, "I shouldn't be so sure it's a trap. Lucius is... competitive."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked with annoyance.

"It means that when he is told he can't have something, his desire to possess it increases tenfold." I raised an eyebrow angrily, but Snape cut me off. "I know you are not a possession, as do you. However, you must think as Malfoy does. I don't think he sees you as an opponent, but as a prize to be won."

"Well more fool him," I grinned. Malfoy had been one of our top targets, but I hadn't really thought I had a serious chance on that front. I definitely wasn't disappointed, though. As Ginny had pointed out to me one night when I confessed my crush on Bill to her, I seem to have a thing for dangerous, older men.

"Indeed," Rejoined Snape. "Well, if that is all, I think I'll be going before I have my arms ripped off."

He rose to leave and before I could think better, the words tumbled out of my mouth. "Severus, where's Dolohov?"

Snape turned to fix an appraising look on me.

"Just wondering," I modified quickly.

After a long pause, Snape said "He is on assignment in his native land. You may expect him back my tomorrow."

"Thanks. Goodnight, Severus." I replied.

"Goodnight, Hermione," and with that he swept from the room.

I decided that there was no reason not to sleep in the bed tonight, although it did feel very large and cold, so far from the fire. Nonetheless, I put on some flannel pajamas, tucked myself in and snuggled down into the covers to get warm. So far, I hadn't experienced any nightmares since I'd been here, and I hoped that trend would continue.

 _I woke up suddenly to a presence over my bed. I noted dimly that the covers were all gone, replaced by a thin, dirty sheet. I didn't move, hoping that whoever it was would leave me alone. That was not to be._

 _A clammy hand grabbed my arm and pulled me upright. I tried to scream at the face before me, but no sounds came out. It was Scabior, but he was unmistakably dead. His face was smeared with blood, he was missing teeth, and one of his eyeballs hung out, connected only by a bloody piece of sinew. "Ello, Beautiful," he wheezed._

 _I struggled, but his bloody fingers were relentless. He pried my arms apart, and then I felt a pair of large, clammy hands undoing my night shirt. I whipped my head around to see Greyback behind me, his mouth full of bloody, razor-sharp teeth. In fact, all the men from Malfoy manor were there around me, coming closer and closer. Another hand grabbed my face and jerked me around to the other side. I tried to scream again, but again I couldn't make a sound._

 _"Hermione!" Someone yelled. I flinched. I started to hyperventilate as the hands ran over my exposed stomach, reaching up..._

 _"Hermione," the voice came again, quieter. "Wake up,"_

Suddenly the men disappeared, to be replaced by one large, blonde man. In a blind panic, I struck out again and flung myself out of bed. I flew across the room and found myself crouched by the door.

I took a few deep breaths and tried to calm my racing heart. I wasn't in Malfoy manor. I was in Dolohov's room, and the blonde man on the bed was Dolohov, who seemed to be bleeding profusely from a nose wound.

"Dolohov?" I whispered.

"Yes, little one. It's me." he replied in a calm, soothing voice. "Come back to bed."

I stood up and walked shakily over, but didn't sit on the bed.

"What happened to your nose?" I asked with concern. "Did you get hurt on your mission?"

Dolohov chuckled, "No, little one. You just punched me in the face."

I flushed. I hadn't even realized.

He grinned, showing blood on his teeth. I grimaced and turned away; it reminded me too much of my dream.

I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder. "Come now, mishka. It's okay. I know it was an accident, and to be fair it was a finely-struck blow."

I shrugged awkwardly.

"Can I trust you to fix it?" Dolohov asked.

"Of course," I responded automatically, holding out my hand.

He placed his wand in it, and closed his eyes.

" _Episkey_ " I whispered, and his nose cracked audibly as the blood vanished. I handed his wand back carefully.

"Thank you," he smiled gently. "Don't go around telling anyone I let you use a wand. You're still an Undesirable as far as the ministry's concerned."

I gave him a small smile in return. Dolohov opened his arms and gestured to the spot next to him.

"Come back to bed. Do you want to tell me about the dream?"

"Not really," I responded. I crawled into bed next to him and settled in his arms. I tried to tell myself that I didn't feel the safest I'd felt since this damn war started, here in bed with a Death Eater.

Dolohov was quiet for a minute, stroking my hair. Finally he asked, "Was it a memory or a fear of something to come?"

"A memory mostly," I answered honestly. "With an extra dose of creepy thrown in."

"Well you are safe from it here. Sleep now, little one."

Uncharacteristically, I didn't respond at all. I obeyed and drifted off to sleep.


	12. Interview with Hermione Granger: 9

I woke up the next morning feeling warm and cozy. As I regained consciousness, I became aware that I was trapped in Dolohov's arms. I also felt something else poking into my lower extremities. I wiggled my butt experimentally and Dolohov growled sleepily. The low, rumbling sound caused a little jolt in my stomach. I looked down to see a large, muscular arm wrapped securely around my ribs. My eyes were drawn automatically to the ugly black mark on the forearm. The skull glared starkly up at me, reminding me that this was not just another lazy morning in bed. I had a mission to complete.

What I should do is prepare myself for a foray into Dolohov's mind in case we ended up engaging in some early-morning debauchery. I had no doubt that whatever mission he'd just engaged in would be of interest to the Order. On the other hand, something inside of me rebelled against the idea of invading my husband's mind on the first time we slept together.

After a few minutes of silent battle with myself, I decided that there would probably be many repeats, and I could get the information during one of them. I'd just let this first time be... special? real? I'd let it be something good in my life. I deserved one or two of those.

Silencing the little voices in my head that sounded disconcertingly like Moody and Snape, I turned my head around and started planting light kisses on the underside of Dolohov's chin. I'd have liked to do more, but his arms had me in a death grip. Dolohov grunted and tightened his arms even more. I nipped him impatiently on his pulse point.

"Wake up, you beast!" I laughed softly, "You're smashing me."

"Well I've got you right where I want you." He replied sleepily. I wiggled my bottom again.

"Is that so?" I asked flirtily.

I felt Dolohov's stubble scratch my neck and he started to suck and nibble his way along it.

Against, my will a low moan left my mouth. Dolohov growled again, "Oh, yes."

With one hand still firmly around my waist, his other hand pulled gently on my hair to tip my head further back and give him better access to my neck. Facing away from his as I was, all I could do was reach up behind me and grab on to his hair, mewling as he sucked on a sensitive spot on my collar bone. Before I'd realized it, he had my nightshirt open and was cupping my breasts in his enormous hands.

Suddenly, he gave my nipples and experimental pinch and I squeaked, jerking against him. His low, reverberating laugh somehow made my legs spread involuntarily, and he splayed one hand across my hips to make me grind back against him.

"That's it, little wife," he rumbled, rocking against me and tormenting my breasts with his fingers.

"Please!" I breathed.

"As you command," he answered roughly. In one movement, I was flat on my back with my hands pressed above my head in a gentile, but firm grip. I froze for a moment, and he also froze against me.

"Is alright?" he asked. I took a moment to breathe deeply and realized with surprise that I felt completely safe and comfortable. Usually I liked to stay in control, but in this moment I didn't feel like I needed to.

"Perfect," I responded and tilted my face up to kiss him. Dolohov snogged me hard, and I gave as good as I got. His other hand trailed down my body, caressing gently, and pushed down my pajama pants. Before I realized what was happening, I was wearing nothing but my knickers, and he was kissing his way down my stomach, over the scar that he himself had put there.

"So perfect, so beautiful," he mumbled. Suddenly, he was kissing the outside of my knickers. My head dropped back on the pillow and I couldn't seem to control the sounds leaving my mouth. I was whimpering and begging him, "Oh my Merlin, please please please touch me."

He hooked his fingers in the sides of my knickers and they slipped easily down my legs. Then, his mouth was on me and I was trembling under his touch. I was coming closer and closer to the peak, his bruising grip on my hip the only thing anchoring me to reality. Suddenly, his mouth was gone. I whined and looked at him accusingly. He grinned.

"Not today, little wife. Today you're going to come on my cock." He leaned down and captured my lips in a hot, bruising kiss and I felt the head of his cock nudging at my entrance. I canted my hips up and he slid smoothly into me. I had never felt so full, and for a second I clutched him to me, frozen with the feeling. I could feel every muscle in his body was tense. I slowly started to rock back and forth under him, and he met me, setting a slow, torturous rhythm.

"Fuck, mishka. So good" he grunted. I felt his hand reach between us and find my clit. He brushed it gently with the pad of his thumb, once, twice, and I fell off the edge.

As my orgasm trailed off, Dolohov kept working slowly inside of me. I was so sensitive I couldn't tell if I wanted him to cease immediately, or never ever stop. The pace picked back up gradually, and soon he was slamming into me, one hand braced on my shoulder, my body rocking beneath his. I felt myself climbing up to that precipice again, and opened my eyes to look up at his face. Our eyes locked, and he whispered, "Come for me again. NOW." I felt myself coming hard, and I could feel him too, finishing inside of me.

He settled down on top of me, almost crushing me. I could barely breathe, but I didn't want him to move, relishing the feeling of his sweaty body on top of mine. After a few minutes he rolled over, bringing me with him so I was curled on his chest. As I gradually calmed my heart rate, I decided that I didn't want to leave the door open for pillow talk. I kissed Dolohov lightly on the cheek and rolled out of bed.

"Shower," I explained as I disappeared into the bathroom. Dolohov opened one eye, grunted and then rolled over. Even before I started the shower, I could hear snoring from the bed.

I emerged from the shower to find a handsome raven perched on the bedside table. The scroll tied to its foot informed me that Severus would be out for the day, and that all he needed from me was to start a befuddling draft simmering. He suggested that I might like to spend the rest of the day in the manor's library. I smiled as I dried my hair with a towel. For all that he liked to sweep around like a bat, Severus did know me quite well. I had the odd feeling that we were almost becoming friends.

I poked the bear of a man still asleep in our bed. "I need to run down to the lab and start a befuddlement draft. Let me out?"

Dolohov sat up and rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Before you go. I have something for you."

I perched myself on the side of the bed, as he fumbled in the bedside drawer for something. He looked oddly abashed as he drew out a small, nondescript black box.

"I never got you a proper wedding band. This is from family vault in Russia."

I took the box and opened it carefully. Although it felt like a dreadful cliche, I couldn't suppress a girly gasp when I saw the ring inside. It was finely worked gold, encrusted with tiny rose-colored diamonds. I slid it on my finger and it fit perfectly.

I looked up, at a loss for words. Dolohov looked down at the sheet and twisted it nervously.

"It's beautiful," I said finally. Again, I felt the charade getting all too real, too emotional. But I couldn't bring myself to push Dolohov back, in this rare moment of vulnerability. Instead, I gave him a slow, chaste kiss.

"It also has tracking charm that will call me to you if you are in danger."

I couldn't stop myself from replying, "Aren't I in danger all the time?"

"Immediate physical danger," he clarified ruefully. "And it will allow you to pass the door wards of this room, bringing people with you only if you choose."

I looked down at my finger and held the ring up to the light.

Dolohov flopped back down on the pillows and rolled over. "Now go make potion. I haven't slept in 2 days."

When I reached the basement laboratory I was surprised to find that the lights were already on, and a light pink smoke was wafting out the high windows. I entered quietly, nervous that it might be a Death Eater who would try to kill me on sight. The Alecto Carrow certainly had good reason to have beef with me, given that I'd blasted Amycus off of a cliff last year. Then there were Avery, Yaxley, Gibbon and McNair. I'd injured all of them at some point, and I was willing to bet that McNair wasn't able to re-grow that arm. As I edged quietly around the side of the person brewing I was relieved to see that it was Theodore Nott.

At Hogwarts we'd actually had a short fling in our sixth year. It hadn't been anything serious, and it had fizzled out pretty quickly as the war gained steam around us. I guess we'd both have other things on our minds. At any rate, I couldn't think of any reason that Theo would hold a personal grudge against me.

"Hey," I said.

Theo jumped and whirled around, wand trained on me. I raised my hands and offered him a small smile.

"Long time," I offered. He didn't say anything, but lowered his wand. "I've just come to brew up something for Snape. Carry on."

If he didn't want to chat that was fine by me. I got out the ingredients I needed and set up my workstation next to his. We worked a few minutes in silence before he finally spoke.

"So you're married to Dolohov now?"

"Apparently."

"And you're not a mudblood?"

"Apparently."

"So you're on our side now?"

"Nope."

"So why aren't you locked up then? Why are they letting you get anywhere near the potions ingredients?"

I shrugged. The real answer was probably that they didn't believe that I could do much about my situation. In reality I was quite sure that I could do some decent damage if I had a mind to. At the very least, I could blow this entire manor sky-high with just the ingredients in front of me. But to Theo I answered,

"Dolohov's put a charm on me that doesn't let me leave the house. You'll notice I don't have a wand. I'm just helping Snape out to pass the time,"

Theo smirked, "You never did do well with boredom."

I smirked back, "Clearly. If I'd had more homework I wouldn't have needed to bother messing around with you."

Theo actually did laugh at that one. I'd always liked his laugh, even though I thought he was a misguided idiot.

"So how's married life treating you?"

"You mean my abduction and imprisonment? It's lovely. Nothing I want more than to hang around with a pack of people who've tried to kill me,"

"Come on now, Mion. I've never tried to kill you," Theo said with a smirk.

"Oh, really?" I challenged, "What about that time I caught pneumonia?"

"And whose idea was it to get frisky in a snowstorm? Oh yes... yours!" He teased back.

"I remember things quite differently," I laughed.

I turned back to my potion, just reaching the tricky part where you had to stir with two spoons, one clockwise and one anti-clockwise. I breathed in sharply when Theo sidled up behind me and took the anticlockwise spoon, wrapping his arm around me to do so.

This was interesting. Theo wasn't on the list of high-value targets that Severus and I had discussed, but there was pretty good chance he would know _something_ of interest, especially with his father high up in the ministry. It couldn't hurt, I guess, and Theo was certainly an animal in the sack.

I shifted against him, making sure to rub my bum against the front of his trousers, and he groaned.

"Don't mess up now, Snape needs this draft by Friday," I said in a mock-stern voice.

"I think you'll find I can multi-task quite well," Theo murmured, pushing my hair to one side.

I gasped as his lips touched my neck and almost lost count.

"14, 15, 16, 17" I counted aloud, trying to keep my voice steady, "Would you turn that down to a simmer?"

Theo complied and then gently took the spoon from my hand and laid it down on the table next to me.

I turned around and leaned back against the table with a light smile on my face and fixed Theo with what Sirius had called my "patented fuck-me eyes."

"This is a very bad idea," whispered Theo.

"Terrible," I agreed, grabbing him by the collar. I pulled him into a searing kiss, groaning as his hands reached down to my bum and picked me up to sit on the table. I wrapped my legs around his waist and broke the kiss to trail little bites and licks down his neck.

"Fuck, I forgot," he groaned, his hands clutching at my ass, pulling me flush against him. His hands slipped under my sweater, and next thing I knew I was topless in front of him. I gasped at the cold air on my exposed breasts, before Theo crushed me back against his chest and kissed me hotly once more. His hands trailed up my rib cage and he cupped my full breasts in his hands before suddenly giving my nipples a rough pinch.

I squeaked and he whispered against my ear, "Still like it rough?"

"Oh gods, yes," I groaned. He pinched my nipples again and I felt like lightning bolt shot straight between my legs. I could tell I was already dripping wet. With a wave of his wand, my jeans fell to the floor. Theo's hand wrapped around my neck and I groaned as he stepped back to enjoy the picture I made sitting totally exposed, legs spread and cheeks flushed before him on the table.

He trailed his fingers slowly down my neck, my chest and down to my dripping pussy.

Without preamble, Theo speared two finger roughly inside me and I groaned at the sudden sensation. "Yes," I breathed.

This was what I liked about Theo; he never complicated things when keeping it simple worked.

I leaned forward and grabbed him hard by his collar, pulling him into a bruising kiss. I nipped his bottom lip and he groaned appreciatively and curled his fingers inside of me, making stars burst behind my eyelids.

Wanting to get back in control, I reached down and freed his straining cock from his trousers. I ran my hand up and down his length appreciatively, and then planted one of my feet on his chest and pushed him away hard, causing him to stumble into the table behind him. I dropped to my knees in front of him and licked the tip of his cock experimentally, watching his face under his lashes.

Theo put one hand on the table behind him to steady himself an grabbed my hair with the other. I took as much of him as I could in my mouth and started bobbing my head up and down, moaning in pleasure and pain as he pulled my hair.

After less than a minute, Theo roughly yanked me to my feet by my hair and turned me around, bending me over the table. All the breath was knocked from my body as he slammed home, his delicious length filling me up completely. Before I got carried away, I closed my eyes and focused my mind.

My ability to compartmentalize is what makes me such a good legillimens. I can use half my brain to enjoy a roll in the hay while using the other half to preform legilimency. I was a little nervous; Severus had promised me that the natural connection that is formed between two people who are having sex, combined with the distraction of the other party, is enough to allow you to slip into their mind unnoticed. I hoped he was right.

Theo slid out slowly, and then slammed into me again, making me squeak with surprise. With a deep breath, I opened the mental connection .

 _Me and Theo, in a dark broom closet, my legs wrapped around his waist and his hand cupping my bum under my school skirt._

I felt fingers slip between my legs and start to tease my clit, causing me to open my legs even wider and push my ass back into him.

 _Theo taking the Dark Mark, surrounded my expressionless masks. Under his mask, a single tear slipped down his face._

I arched my back so that Theo's increasingly erratic thrusts would hit that spot inside me that made me see stars.

 _Theo presenting the Gringotts goblins with a stack of wands and demanding they open the associated vaults. "We require a notarized letter from the wand carrier," the goblin said stiffly._

At that point, the pleasure became so overwhelming I couldn't focus any more and the mental link broke. Seconds later I was coming, screaming "Oh fuck, Theo!" and before the aftershocks even slowed down, he had pulled out and come all over my ass.

I slumped forward on the table for a moment, boneless. Theo rested a hand next to me an leaned over, breathing hard.

After a moment I took a deep breath and rallied, "Clean me up?" I requested, wiggling my bum to draw attention to the sticky mess. Theo complied with a wordless wave of his wand.

I smiled at him gently and turned to pull my clothes back on, "That was fun. We should do it again some time,"

Theo nodded, pulling down the hem of my sweater as I struggled back into it, "Yeah, we should. I'll try to come back around the next time I know Dolohov's away."

"Oh, he's not away," I replied, "He's upstairs sleeping,"

Theo paled visibly.

"Fuck, Granger," he choked out, "I knew you were crazy, but you're _crazy_. Do you have a death wish?"

"Nope! On the contrary, I very much enjoy being alive."

"Well so do I. So stand still and I'll hit you with another cleaning charm."

He did, and then surveyed me critically.

"Most girls would hit their hair with a few spells, but on you I don't know that anyone can tell the difference between post-sex hair and normal mess."

I smacked him hard on the shoulder with a laugh.

"Asshole. See you round," and with a quick peck on the cheek I headed back upstairs, leaving my potion simmering happily.


	13. Interview with Hermione Granger: 10

As I left the dungeons, I realized that I had the morning to myself. I'd been wanting to practice some wand-less magic, but hadn't gotten a chance to slip away from everyone yet.

Wand-less magic has always been a hobby of mine, but now that I found myself permanently without a wand, it seemed imperative. The problem is that most witches and wizards don't like to mess with it. It's considered to be primitive, and generally more trouble than it's worth. It takes an enormous amount of power to manage even the smallest of spells.

As such, few modern magic books mentioned it. To find any sort of instruction I'd had to go back to ancient druidic texts. I'd found a few in the Black library, and I'd been itching to see if I could discover more in the Lestrange family collection. I stalked quietly down the hallway, feeling rather furtive even though I hadn't been explicitly told to stay out of the Library.

I'd marked its location early on in my stay, having observed Rodolphus Lestrange entering after dinner one night. I glanced up and down the hallway before quietly opening the mahogany doors and slipping inside. I found myself feeling more excited than I had in weeks.

Happily, nobody else was there, and I was alone in the beautiful room. I simply couldn't wrap my head around how anyone could become evil with access to such a beautiful library. It had a domed ceiling of stained glass that seemed to be a stylized version of a forest canopy. The floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were embellished with Gaudi-esque swirls of warm-colored wood, and the far corners were occupied with spiral staircases that seemed to lead to reading nooks dappled with the same green-and-yellow light you might find in a real forest. I was in heaven.

There was a heavy, leather-bound tome standing on a plinth just inside the door. I opened it and was not disappointed to find that it was the catalogue. I skimmed the index and quickly located the section where any Druidic texts were likely to be found.

I skipped happily down the soaring aisles, reminded for a moment of the many happy hours I'd spent wandering the stacks of books in the Hogwarts other people they'd seemed dull and dusty, but to me they were full of excitement. I had wanted to learn all I could about this new world I found myself in.

I could hardly believe myself to be the same girl I'd been there, full of wonder and possibility, eagerly believing that I could achieve anything in this word. I remembered how I'd dreamed of hundreds of different futures, different ways to acquire knowledge and change the world. I snorted bitterly. Little had I known then that the most powerful denizens of our world regarded me as little more than mud beneath their shoes. I shook my head to clear away such thoughts.

 _All things worth having come at a price,_ I reminded myself. I'd determined years ago that I was willing to fight for my place in this world. Magic was in my blood, in my very soul. I refused to do what so many other muggle-borns had done: renounce magic and fade quietly back into the muggle world, leaving wizards to sort out their own problems.

I breathed in deeply as I reached the section I'd been searching for. The books here were older, their spines cracked and dusty. Even with the dark thoughts swirling through my head, I grinned automatically at the scent that I'd come to associate with knowledge and possibility. I stood with my back to one shelf, craning my neck to read the titles higher up on the other shelf. I could just make out the tile of a text I'd been dying to read for years, _Y celfyddyd o wneud cwch,_ which roughly translates to "The Art of Making Shit Move". I was hoping that this text could teaching me how to levitate objects through wand-less magic.

The problem was that the book was well out of my reach. At only 5'2 I'd developed the habit of simply levitating books off of the top shelves; yet again, I missed my wand as if it were a limb on my body. I was still learning how to function as an amputee of sorts.

Looking around once more to make sure that nobody was watching, I put a foot on the lowest shelf on each side of the aisle. Slowly, I started to awkwardly climb up, using my arms to brace myself on the opposing shelves as I straddled the aisle. It occurred to me that if anyone walked under me just now, they would get an excellent view of Pansy's finest green panties. Finally, I reached the level of the book, easily ten feet off of the ground, and reached out a hand to grab it. Just as my fingers closed on my coveted tome, I heard the library door open.

I froze, more out of embarrassment than any real sense of wrongdoing. Before I could decide what to do, a male voice drawled, " _hominum revelio"_. The spell swept under me without touching me, and I knew that I hadn't been revealed when I heard a second voice scoff,

"Really, Lucius. You are so paranoid. Who would hang around in this dust-trap anyway?"

"You can never be too careful, Yaxley," Malfoy replied.

I rolled my eyes and smirked. I tought of my dad's advice to me when were were watching _Predator_ together one vacation: " _Let that be a lesson to you, Princess,_ " he said with a grin, as the Predator leapt on Arnold Schwartzeneger from a tree, _"People never look up."_ At the time I'd rolled my eyes at my ex-army dad's advice, thinking that I'd never in a million years have cause to need it.

My legs were already starting to cramp from the awkward position, but I was curious as to what Malfoy was so eager to keep private.

"Ah yes, you'll find the spell for tracking charms over there by the window, call number 7452," declared Malfoy, and there was a _whump_ indicating that the heavy catalogue had been closed.

 _"Accio,"_ there was a thwack that sounded like Yaxley had caught a heavy book, and then he continued, "Thanks, Lucius. Never did figure out how to find things with the library numbers, seems like a waste of time."

"Yes, yes," responded Malfoy impatiently, "Anyway, have you given any more thought to my offer? I assure you, it would be kept in the strictest confidence,"

"I'll tell you now the same thing I told you last time. I'm not gettin' involved if you won't tell me your reason for it. For all I know, this could be one of your slimy plots to end me up in hot water with the Dark Lord,"

"I assure you it is not," snapped Malfoy, "but my reasons are my own."

"Well bugger off and get someone else to do it then," replied Yaxley moodily.

"I assure you the compensation would be-" Malfoy began, but Yaxley cut him off.

"Fuck the compensation! I'm not offing Lestrange without a damn good reason, one that I know won't compromise the cause in any way."

"Have if your own way," bit out Malfoy. There was silence for a moment and then he continued, silky smooth like Snape when he was at his most dangerous, "But if you breathe a word of this to _anyone,_ you won't live long enough to regret it. I will wipe your house from this Earth."

I heard the door open and two sets of footsteps leave. I slowly let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding and bend my knees slightly, trying to save my legs from cramping. I made an awkward, stiff legged descent that ended in me falling the last few feet and landing awkwardly on my hip. I didn't get up immediately, lying flat on the thick plush carpeting and clutching my prize to my chest.

Very interesting, that conversation. Not only was Yaxley doing something with tracking spells, but Malfoy apparently had a secret vendetta against Lestrange. I wondered if there was a way to exploit that. I'd have to report it to Snape the next time we saw each other.

After a few moments contemplation, I pushed myself to my feet and snagged a book on goblin wars so I'd have a plausible cover if anyone came in. I wanted to keep my abilities with wandless magic secret. Another of my dad's life tips was, "always have a plan B."


	14. Interview with Hermione Granger: 11

I found a lovely window-seat in a little turret and settled down to try out the information I'd found in my new text. Over the course of an hour, I managed to make a pen move twice. Once it hovered for a moment before touching down, and the second time it came rocketing towards me so quickly I'd had to duck to prevent losing an eye. It was like being a first year again, except that I didn't think I'd been this bad at magic even as a firstie.

After another hour I'd developed what promised to be a splitting headache if I didn't stop, so I reluctantly hid the book and leaned back to close my eyes for a second.

For a brief moment, I wondered if I should be feeling guilty about having sex with two different men in one morning, but I dismissed that though quickly. I reminded myself that I had a mission, and that was part of it. _Plus,_ a sly voice in my head that sounded exactly like Ginny added, _it was damn fun._ I quickly pushed those thoughts aside with the help of the goblin history book I'd snagged for some light reading.

It must have been late afternoon by the time I heard heavy footfalls climbing the winding stairs to my reading spot. Dolohov's head crested the staircase and he sighed when his eyes found me.

"You missed lunch," he groused.

"I forgot."

"Did you eat breakfast?"

"Ummm..." I had completely forgotten to eat all day in the excitement of the library, and suddenly I noticed that I was very hungry. Dolohov climbed the remaining stairs and sat by my side.

"Mopsy?" He called. She blinked into existence, took one look at me and disappeared again, shaking her head.

"We can't eat in the library!" I said, scandalized.

"Of course we can. You'll just have to put down the book," Dolohov argued patiently.

Mopsy reappeared with a crack and set down a huge tray in front of us with at least 5 different dishes of hearty food.

"Anything else, Master Antonin?" She squeaked.

"That'll be all, Mopsy." He answered. She disappeared with a crack.

I huffed indignantly, still not sold on the idea of eating in a library. Antonin took the book gently from my hands and replaced it with a fork.

"What is this anyway? I can't even read the title."

"Oh! It's fascinating really. It's a 2nd century account from one of the original instigators of the first Goblin wars."

"You can read ancient Goblin?" Asked Dolohov incredulously, as he cut off a piece of what looked like lamb.

"Oh just a bit," I answered modestly. "Believe it or not, before this whole disaster started I wanted to be a historian. Professor Binns gave me extra lessons in ancient languages."

Dolohov chuckled, "Surely, you must have always suspect."

"Suspected what?" I asked, nonplussed. I grudginlg began to eat, overpowered by the fantastic aromas.

"That you couldn't really be a muggle born." My stomach soured instantly.

"Not at all," I answered stiffly. "There are plenty of brilliant muggle borns out there."

Dolohov snorted.

"Dirk Cresswell, Johannes Jonker, Marianne Curie-" I argued hotly.

"Okay, okay, yes there are exceptions," he cut me off.

"And how many exceptions does it take to make a rule?" I snapped back. I wasn't sure why I was bothering to argue it with him, but I couldn't stop, "And while we're at it, Bellatrix is a pureblood and she's an absolute nutter."

Dolohov's face clouded over at the mention of Bellatrix, "She is disgrace. She respects no customs or traditions. She revels in pain of others. I cannot think why the Dark Lord-" He cut off abruptly, but I had been sure that Dolohov had been teetering on the edge of a criticism. Very interesting.

After a moment, he rallied. "Okay is true that muggle borns can be clever, and some Purebloods are not, but it remains that the truly great wizards and witches are Pureblood. They understand customs of our world."

"And yet your Dark Lord's a half-blood." I replied before I could think better of it.

Dolohov's eyes widened, and he dropped his for with a clang. He leaned quickly down the staircase to check that there was nobody nearby. Then he cast a silencing charm around us and gripped my upper arm. "Don't ever go say that again," he growled.

"You're hurting me." I whispered.

His grip lessened, but the intensity of his gaze did not. "Don't say things like that," he repeated.

"Even if they're true?" I asked.

"Look, mishka, I know your Order told you things, but is not possible. The reason we all came to the Dark Lord was to protect and preserve pureblood wizarding tradition. How could he be half blood?

"Because his dad was a muggle. Yes, his family is the Gaunts, _on his mother's side._ But his father is muggle, Tom Riddle, born in Little Hangleton."

"Lies."

"It's not lies. Who does he say is father is, then?"

"He does not say."

"And why do you think that is?"

Dolohov sighed deeply, and growled "I do not want or need to know why that is. It is dangerous to question him."

"Don't you want to know the truth?"

Dolohov's expression softened. "Look, Hermione. I do not want to see you hurt. No good will come of this. Please, for me, drop it?"

Contrary to popular belief among some boys I know, I do actually know a lost cause when I see one. "Fine," I acquiesced, "I won't mention it again. But will you do something for me?"

"What?" He rumbled suspiciously.

"Think about what I've said. Just think about it."

...

Dinner that night was a surprisingly pleasant affair. Lucius and the Lestranges had been called away on business, so Dolohov, Daphne, Narcissa and I dined alone. Afterwards, we sat around drinking coffee and listening to the wizarding wireless. I was surprised to see that Dolohov could be surprisingly outgoing in the right company. When we finally retired to bed, my head was buzzing with that lovely combination of coffee and elf-made wine.

I was actually giggling as Dolohov shut the door to our room behind us.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I actually enjoyed myself," I said happily.

"I couldn't wait to leave," he replied.

"Really?" I asked with surprise, "you seemed to be having such a good time."

The corners of his eyes crinkled, "Oh, I was. But I was a little impatient for his part."

Without warning, Dolohov picked me up and I instinctively wound my legs around his waist. Before I knew it, I was pushed up against the door and kissing him for dear life. I pushed his shirt off impatiently and kissed my way across his shoulders, sucking and biting as I went.

"Fuck, witch," He growled. He pushed my body higher against the door and ripped my robes open. Pushing the cups of my bra out of the way, he set to tormenting my breasts with his mouth. I hardly recognized the needy whines that were leaving my mouth.

I was vaguely aware that he was walking across the room, with my legs still wrapped around his waist, when we dropped down into one of the chairs by the fire. He grabbed my hair in an almost-painful grip and tilted my head back to kiss me again. However, this time I was determined to regain some control. I pulled back and dropped to my knees before him, sliding out of my robes as I went. I unzipped his trousers and freed his member from its confines.

I remembered that it had felt big yesterday, but I had no idea how I could take it all in my mouth. I wrapped my hand around it tentatively and looked up at Dolohov. He was looking down at me, eyes almost black with lust. I could imagine the picture I made, kneeling in front of him in only my underwear, bra askew and hair wild.

I gave him a tentative lick and he growled appreciatively. Summoning my Gryffindor courage, I began in earnest, taking as much of him in my mouth as I could and fisting the base of his cock in my hand. A very short while later, Dolohov pushed me roughly off him. I looked up in confusion.

"Did I do something wrong?"

He chuckled darkly, "Something too right, mishka. I want to come inside of you tonight, and you were about to prevent that."

He yanked my arm towards him so I fell on to his lap, straddling his thighs. His mouth caught mine in another bruising kiss, while his hands ran down my back and squeezed my ass. I moaned into the kiss and ground myself against his cock, loving the way it rubbed up against the thin fabric of my knickers. I felt Dolohov shove them to the side, and spear two fingers inside of me.

I gasped at the sudden intrusion, and he growled in my ear, "So wet for me, little wife."

"Yes, Antonin, please" I begged.

He flicked his thumb against my clit, "Say it again," he growled.

God, I love his voice.

"Please!" I panted, squirming against him.

"Say my name," he ordered.

"Antonin!" I moaned.

With a satisfied growl, he lifted me up and lowered me on to his cock. I gasped and dropped my head on to his shoulder. _Dear Merlin. Oh god._

After a moment, I began rocking back and forth on his lap. Antonin sat back and let me ride him slowly, seemingly content to watch me bounce up and down on his cock. Very soon, I felt myself nearing the precipice. I rocked against that special spot inside me and suddenly fell apart. Antonin's hands were around my waist, guiding me through my orgasm. Afterwards, I stilled and dropped my head back into the crook of his neck. I was still very aware of his cock inside of me, stretching me in the most delicious way. His large, callused hands stroked my back gently.

After a moment, Antonin's grip on my hips tightened and he was guiding me up and down again. We gained speed quickly, and soon he was slamming me down on his cock, groaning "Yes, so tight. So perfect." I was aware of pain, but it barely registered in the waves of pleasure.

Seconds later, I felt him come inside me and I ground my hips gently into him, drawing out his orgasm. Rather than pulling out immediately after, he pulled me closer to him and snuggled my head under his chin. We sat like that for several minutes as our breathing returned to normal.

Eventually, Antonin reached into the robes still on his shoulders and muttered a cleaning charm. He stood up, his softening member finally slipping out of me, and carried me over to the bed. He laid down next to me without another word, I curled into his side. As I drifted off to sleep, I realized I'd forgotten to use legilimency on him again.


	15. Interview with Hermione Granger: 12

I awoke suddenly to see Antonin pulling on his Death Eater robes in the pre-dawn light. Seeing I was awake, he offered a curt explanation: "Summons."

I nodded and rolled back over. Hopefully I could catch a few more hours of sleep.

However, it couldn't have been long after that when I found myself bolt upright in bed, heart racing. Another damn nightmare. Sunlight was creeping in around the heavy velvet curtains, and when I wrenched them open I found that the sun was rising over the treetops. I wondered if it was just a coincidence that as soon as Antonin had left, the nightmares had started up again. I tried to think back on other bed partners I'd had in the last few years to see if there was a pattern.

With Ron, the nightmares had been even worse. Of course, he was also the first person whose bed I shared after my time in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor. I probably would have had the nightmares then regardless of who I'd shared a bed with.

Then there had been Sirius, off and on for the next year. We hadn't shared a bed often, an unspoken agreement between us to keep things light and casual. I'd been more than happy to finally have a sexual partner who I actually enjoyed being with, but I also considered Sirius one of my closest friends. Neither of us had wanted to ruin that friendship by trying to turn it into anything more. Nonetheless, now that I thought about it, I realized that on those nights when I'd been too tired to stumble back to my room, I'd only woken up to the nightmares once or twice.

Other nights, after the breakup with Ron, I would wake up screaming and Harry or Ginny would rush in to comfort me. They'd usually stay the night with me, and that seemed to help too. They thought the nightmares had stopped eventually, but really I'd just placed a silencing charm on my room so that at least some of us could get a full night's sleep.

But, I reflected, this was the first time that something seemed to keep them reliably at bay. I decided not to dwell for the moment on why that might be. Instead, I rolled out of bed and pulled on a warm cloak over my pajamas. I knew nobody else would be up for ages, so I decided to go for a walk in the woods.

It wasn't until I tried to open the front door and was repelled with a sharp shock that I remembered that I was a prisoner in this bloody house. I turned dejectedly with the idea of taking a warm shower or going to the library when I came face to face with Lucius Malfoy.

He was as immaculately dressed as ever, and I blushed slightly as I realized that I was wearing my pajamas and muggle boots.

"Good morning, Hermione," he intoned smoothly, with a slight bow.

"Good morning, Lucius."

"Out for a walk?"

"I'd been thinking about it, but I forgot I'm not allowed to leave the house."

"Nonsense!" He insisted, "Allow me to accompany you. Surely even your overprotective husband would consider my presence sufficient protection."

"I wouldn't want to trouble you," I replied awkardly, "And besides, I think his concern is more about my escaping than my being attacked."

Lucius smiled broadly, "Oh, I would never let such a pretty little thing as you out of my site."

Without further ado, he placed my hand on his arm and threw the door open.

"Come, I insist!" he smiled again, "I'd hate for you to develop cabin fever in the dinky little house."

Only Lucius Malfoy could refer to this manor as a 'dinky little house.' Oh well, I suppose I'd better take opportunities where they come.

I subtly turned the pheromone emitter on my wrist to its lowest setting. Cozy flannel pajamas and bed-head aren't exactly prime seduction material, after all.

As we walked, I reveled in the feeling of the sun on my skin. It really had been too long. We followed a winding path into the woods, and soon found ourselves out of sight of the manor house.

"You, Miss Granger, are a most intriguing young woman," Lucius commented. I noticed he didn't use my married title.

"How so?" I asked coyly.

"You know, even at Hogwarts I always suspected Draco had a bit of a thing for you. Nobody spends their entire summer holiday raving about a girl unless they have some sort of interest in her." He gave me a broad wink, "Even if she did beat him on every exam."

I laughed then, "Did he ever tell you I punched him in our third year?"

Lucius chortled, "He left that out somehow. But I'm sure he deserved it; he was quite insufferable as a teenager."

"You can't imagine. Well, I suppose really you can."

Lucius stopped walking and turned to me suddenly, "He was right about one thing though. You are most intriguing." He brushed a piece of hair back from my face, and I looked away.

"Don't get all shy on me now, Miss Granger," he admonished, "I've thoroughly enjoyed our talk thus far, and I was hoping to enjoy something more."

I looked back at him, and before I could say another word, his lips were on mine. Damn, but that man is bold. And not a bad kisser either. I wound my arms around his neck and kissed him back, nibbling cautiously on his lower lip. With a growl, Lucius pulled me to him and delved deeper into my mouth. Deciding that it would be suspicious if I made this too easy for him, I finally pulled back and took a step away. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes dark. I imagine I looked a right mess as well.

"We shouldn't have done that," I whispered, "I should go."

Without another word, I turned and hurried out of the wood. If Lucius is as competitive as Snape says, I was sure sure he'd relish a bit of a chase.

...

At breakfast that morning, I acted as if nothing had happened. I didn't avoid Lucius, but engaged in a polite conversation with him and Daphne. I could feel Lucius's eyes keep sliding back to me, and noticed that his conversation seemed a little bit disjoined. Almost as if he had something else on his mind. Suddenly, I wondered if Lucius had re-established the ward that kept me from leaving the house. I'd have to test it later when I was alone.

Severus had returned, so we walked down to the lab together to get started on our work. Once we were behind closed doors, Severus pulled a scrap of parchment out of his cloak. He wordlessly handed it to me and then tapped it with his wand. I was delighted to see that the touch of his wand had revealed Harry's chicken-scratch handwriting.

I sunk down onto a stool and devoured the letter.

 _Mione-_

 _What the hell were you thinking going off on a mission like that without telling me? I would never have let you go. Which I guess is why you didn't tell me. Have I ever mentioned you're too bloody smart for your own good? Anyway, I know you're stuck with this now, but just remember if you do decide to off Dolohov after the war I'll happily help you hide the body. Or, sooner if you like. I wish you'd come back. Ginny and I are just stuck here with Ron now, and he's still being a right git._

 _I'm sure Severus is keeping you up to date on the war, so I won't bore you with that._ _Not much new is happening here. Ginny and George developed a new product that makes you spew swear words every time you open your mouth. Unfortunately, they were trying to slip it to Percy, but Molly somehow drank his hot chocolate. Although I'll never admit this out loud, it was wonderful. She confiscated their wands for a week after that one and made them scrub down the kitchen with a toothbrush._

 _It's Ginny's birthday next week, and she still hasn't agreed to get back together with me. Still angry about us leaving her to hunt Horcruxes, I guess. I'm thinking of planning a big birthday surprise with roses and the whole bit. Girls like that, right?_

 _I miss you here, Mione. Please come back in one piece._

 _Love,_

 _Harry_

I looked up and realized my face was wet with tears. I was glad beyond belief to hear that George had planned a prank again. I hadn't even realized how much I'd missed the family until I got Harry's letter. With my parents somewhere in Australia, they were all I had. Snape had mercifully turned his back to fiddle with some potions ingredients.

"You can write back if you want to. Quills are right there."

"Thanks, Severus," I hiccuped.

"Just the once, mind you. I'm not a bloody owl."

I smiled through the tears. There's the snarky asshole I know.

I grabbed a quill and wrote quickly,

 _Harry,_

 _I miss you too. I knew you wouldn't be thrilled with this plan, but if it can end this war and let us all live free then it'll be worth it. I'll do my best to come back in one piece as long as you do the same. Don't eat anything in the same room as George for starters..._

 _It hasn't been awful here- Dolohov's not a complete bastard and I've sort of become friends with Daphne Greengrass. She's not a bad sort, really, just on the wrong side of this whole mess._

 _As for Ginny's birthday, she will absolutely not go for the roses. I repeat, NO ROSES. If you want to get her on your good side, plan a surprise party with the family and everyone for her. It'll show her you care, and she'll be so pleased to see all of them. I know she gets lonely in that big, drafty house. For a present, I happen to know that she's been wanting those new ultra-cushioned heels from Madame Minnera's. Probably burgundy. If you could take a break from declaring your love for her every five minutes, let her know that I miss her._

 _Stay safe and we'll see each other at the end._

 _Love,_

 _Hermione._


	16. Interview with Hermione Granger: 13

Antonin returned that night, and we passed the rest of the week in relative calm, if you didn't count several rounds of bed-shaking sex.

Friday morning, I awoke to Antonin pulling on his traveling cloak. "I am travel to Russia today," he explained, "I should be back before you go to bed."

"What are you doing in Russia?" I asked conversationally.

He fixed me with a long look, which reminded me that despite the way we bumped along comfortably, we were enemies outside of this bedroom.

"Just making conversation," I said quickly, "Who in the world would I tell anyway?"

He grunted and grabbed his wand.

"Stay out of trouble, mishka," he warned me with a smile.

"I'll do my best," I replied, returning his smile.

As the door shut behind him, I sat back in the bed to think. Yesterday, Snape had brought news of an attack on an Order headquarters in Hogsmeade, which reminded me that as a spy I'd been pretty much useless lately. The tricky part is that the Death Eaters are a purposely fragmented organization, so the members don't even discuss their assignments among each other without Voldemort's permission. The details of their knowledge tended to remain locked inside of their heads.

Finding myself with too much restless energy, I set to practicing some of the wand-less spells that I'd been learning. I'd never realized before how much easier modern witches and wizards had it with wands, compared to the ancient druids who had worked magic with their bare hands. Even levitating a book in front of me caused my forehead to break out in a sweat. When I switched to shield charms, my shield flickered miserably.

At last I sighed, lowering my shaking arms. As usual, distracting my mind from the problem had helped me decide on a course of action.

I determined that if I couldn't bring myself to invade Antonin's mind, I'd have to pursue another option. I'd seen Lucius following me with his eyes all week, but Antonin had hardly let me out of his sight. Today would have to be the day.

After my shower, I sauntered over to the closet in my towel and perused the selection of clothing. I decided to start with some nice foundational garments. I chose a black, lacy set with gold embellishments and tried not to think about how Pansy Parkinson had once worn these.

Then, I selected a lovely pair of brocade robes with a high collar and a low neckline. I couldn't resist breaking into a little dance when I saw how perfectly they fit me. Oh, this man was in trouble now!

I swept into the kitchen and grabbed a scone. I didn't really feel like sitting through a long breakfast with everyone. I peered into the dining room and saw that Lucius's seat was already vacated. Perfect.

I sauntered down to the drawing room that Lucius had requisitioned for his office and tapped lightly on the door, turning up the pheromones just a touch. I wasn't even sure I needed them, but I didn't want to let my arrogance prevent me from completing this mission.

"Enter," Lucius called regally.

"Hi, Lucius. I hope I'm not bothering you?"

"Not at all, my dear. I was just about to take coffee. Will you join me?"

I assented and we settled ourselves at a small side table. I noticed that Lucius's chair had somehow landed right next to mine.

We sipped our coffees quietly for a moment.

"So what can I do for you, Hermione?" He asked smoothly.

"Well it's a bit strange, really, but I'm just curious about who my family was. Severus told me you knew my parents?"

This was a blatant lie, but I figured that most Purebloods knew each other. Anyway, I just needed a pretense to get him alone.

"Naturally," said Lucius with a smile, "Your mother, actually. She was a beautiful woman, much like you."

I looked down at my lap and blushed, "You're too kind, Lucius."

He tipped my face back up with a finger under the chin, "Nonsense. You have the same fine, aristocratic features."

I breathed deeply to bite down a laugh at his ridiculousness, since in reality I couldn't possibly look anything like Emmaline Vance. Hopefully he'd think it was a sigh of desire. He laid a hand on my arm.

"You have the same fine figure, and the same fiery spirit."

"Lucius..." I began, but he cut me off.

"You've been avoiding me all week, Hermione."

"Why should I do that?" I demanded with a smile, meeting his eyes at last.

"Maybe you've been worried about what I'd do with you if I get you alone again," he purred in an entirely sinful voice.

"And yet here I am," I countered with a smirk.

With a tug of my arm, Lucius pulled me into his lap.

"And this time you won't be getting away," he murmured. I briefly imagined Antonin's reaction if he walked into this situation, but I pushed those thoughts away. War, I reminded myself, this is war.

I wasn't sure who moved first, but suddenly we were kissing each other. My hands were in Lucius's soft, silky hair and his were running down my spine. I found myself surprised again by how intoxicating it was to kiss him. His lips trailed down my neck and I moaned softly.

"Stand up, Hermione," he whispered in my ear.

I stood obediently and he pushed me back against his desk. I sat on top of the scrolls of parchment, and he pulled me towards him. He slid my robes down over my shoulders and attacked my bared breasts with gusto, nibbling lightly one one as he rolled the other nipple between his nimble fingers. I sighed contentedly and trailed my hands down his chest to unzip his pants. His cock sprang free and I started to stroke it lightly. He groaned and nipped one of my nipples hard. I squeaked, arching into him, and he laughed against my skin.

Lucius's warm, soft hands trailed up the outside of my thighs and delved under my skirt. As his fingers slipped past my silky underwear and inside of me, I began to prepare my mind. He curled two fingers inside of me and I gasped softly, rocking against his hand and fisting his open shirt, heedless of damaging the fine cloth.

Suddenly, he withdrew his fingers to be replaced by something much broader nudging at my entrance. As Lucius slid inside of me with a groan, I dropped my head to his shoulder and nibbled on the skin there. I rocked against him again and opened up the connection between our minds.

 _Lucius was in a dark corridor that I recognized as the ministry. He pulled Bowle into an alcove and passed him a bag that clinked suspiciously. "All is in order?" he hissed. "Yes, the aurors will never know we've re-activated their traces," Bowle responded._

I arched into Lucius as he fucked me slowly, cupping my ass in his hands.

 _Lucius sat on a beautiful persian rug, tickling a squirming, blonde-haired toddler. He laughed in a way I'd never heard before._

Suddenly, Lucius placed his hand on my collarbone and pushed me down on the desk. His pace increased, and he leaned against me, grasping my shoulder. I wound a leg around his waist and let my head fall back on the desk.

 _Lucius and Bellatrix were chasing a young woman down a street. Lucius hit her with a stinging hex, and Bellatrix cackled madly._

I wrapped both legs around his waist, urging him on, "Lucius, I'm so close!" I whined, "Harder please." He obliged and I felt a familiar warmth spreading through my body. I could feel my mouth fall open as I broke, and dimly noticed his eyes drink in the sight of my breasts bouncing as my back arched off the desk. I felt his body tense with the effort of not following me, and he slowed down to rock against me with shallow, measured thrusts.

 _Lucius kneeled in front of Voldemort. "My lord, I believe we are losing control of the werewolves. They are threatening to defect unless we will promise their children an equal place in wizarding society."_

As my body calmed, I slid off the desk and drew Lucius around to stand in my spot. With a smirk, I sank to my knees and took him in my mouth.

 _Lucius had Draco pinned against the wall with his hand on his son's throat. He was screaming in his face, "I don't give a shit what you believe. This isn't about values. This is about power and survival."_

After only seconds, Lucius dragged me back up to a standing position and bend me face-first over his desk. I shivered in anticipation as he pushed my skirt up over my waist. I spread my legs, but instead of his cock, I felt his fingers enter me.

"Fuck yourself on my fingers," he breathed. Despite being a smarmy bastard, this man teased me in just the right way. I ground back against his hand and whimpered as I felt a light smack on my ass.

"Good girl," he growled. Abruptly his fingers were replaced with his cock and in no time at all, we were both coming hard. My heart was racing, both from the exhilaration of successfully getting the information and from the double orgasm. After a few seconds, Lucius pushed himself off of me and straightened his clothes. I did the same and perched on top of the desk, grinning at him. He smirked back. I could tell that he was feeling like he'd gotten one over on my husband.

Lucius summoned our coffees, and stood in front of me in silence as we finished our cups. He had an uncertain look on his face, something I'd never seen before. I decided to take pity and spare us both the awkwardness.

"Well that was fun," I said lightly. I hopped off the desk and kissed him on the cheek, "But we'd best not make a habit of it."

Lucius looked a bit put out, but recovered quickly, "Regrettable, but probably a sensible idea."

"Thanks for the coffee," I said, and walked calmly out the door. I considered going up for a shower, but decided that some of the information should get to Severus immediately.

I walked into the basement lab, and Severus immediately took stock of my flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

"Getting in trouble so early in the morning, Hermione?" he snarked.

"Don't be an ass," I rejoined with a smile, "I have dirt."

"Dirt? For plants?" Severus seemed genuinely confused.

I sighed, "No. It's a muggle expression for gossip, information."

Severus raised an eyebrow, but I didn't want to get bogged down in muggle idioms just now. I told him everything that I'd seen in Lucius's mind.

"I'm not sure what to make of all of it," I mused, "but by putting together the pieces, it seems like the important bits are that Bowle is betraying the Order, the Aurors all have some sort of trace on them, we might be able to sway the werewolves to our side, and that we might be able to flip Draco."

Severus nodded thoughtfully, "Quite the treasure-trove."

"There's more. I also saw Theo trying to use a bunch of wands to access Gringotts vaults. The goblins were refusing without notarized letters from account holders,"

"Hmm, interesting. Perhaps the Dark Lord is trying to train prisoners' accounts. Good work, Miss Granger. I'll let Kingsley know immediately. And I'll do some digging into Draco's situation myself."


	17. Interview with Hermione Granger: 14

Antonin looked into the fire and considered carefully before answering the question I'd just posed.

"Well, the first thing you must understand is that I was very young when I joined. I still believed the world was black and white. Today I don't think I'd believe that answers are so easy to find. But I also joined for things I still believe in, like upholding ancient traditions."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And are Bellatrix and her sort upholding ancient traditions? Because from my perspective it looks like they're just running wild."

Antonin sighed heavily, "This is what I mean about black and white. Now I can see, there are those who use their blood status only to disguise the darkness inside them. They have no sense of the responsibility that comes with their privilege."

I nodded. As twisted as his code was, it was clear that it was important to him.

"And those who are not of pure ancestry?" I queried.

He shrugged, "Unlike many of by fellows, I have no problem with muggle borns. What I have problem with is when they refuse to assimilate to our world, when they try to usurp our traditions with their own." I raised an eyebrow.

"Look at you when you were young," he continued. "You are a pureblood raised among muggles. You arrive at Hogwarts and immediately you go on a crusade to free the house-elves. You do not stop to ask if they want to be free, or what would happen to them if they are free. You did not understand our _responsibility_ towards them."

"I'll concede that point. But I still don't understand you at all. You don't have an issue with muggle-borns on principle, but rather than try to educate them in the ways of the wizarding world, you lot rape and torture them."

"You exaggerate. You know perfectly well we do neither."

"I do not!" I retorted hotly. I shoved my sleeve up, holding up my arm where Bellatrix had carved _Mudblood._ "That's not torture, then?"

"Okay, yes. Bellatrix we have already discussed, but in general-"

I cut him off, growing angry, "And you and I both know they are raping people in the dungeons at Malfoy Manor."

"Bullshit."

I found myself practically shouting at him, "It's true! I know for a fact it is happening! Honestly, Antonin, how can you throw in your lot with these people?"

"Look, if it is happening, it's not Death Eaters. Snatchers, maybe, but no member of the Sacred 28 would stoop so low."

I groaned in frustration, "Can't you see what these people are? What kind of twisted people a sicko like Voldemort-"

"ENOUGH," He thundered, and I was so shocked that I actually froze.

"Look, Hermione," he continued in a gentler tone, "past is past. I _have_ joined the Death Eaters, and you are Death Eater wife. To even think of leaving, to criticize the Dark Lord, it is suicide. I may not like everything he does, but I have given my word to him. That is final."

I knew I should stop, but I couldn't resist one more salvo, "And what of his word to you? Is this the world he'd promised to build when you joined up?" Without waiting for an answer, I stalked into the bathroom. I wasn't sure why I'd bothered to have this conversation at all. My mission wasn't to turn Antonin, and in fact him surviving the war would be extremely inconvenient.

As I brushed my teeth, I took a good, hard look at myself in the mirror. Was I getting attached? The truth was I'd grown to respect him, and it frustrated me to see that he had real principles. I might not agree with him, but it would have been much easier to hate him if he were just some sicko who got off on killing.

We went to bed that night in a frosty silence, but within a few minutes I found myself wrapped in his arms.

The next morning, Antonin was still in bed when I woke up. I could feel his hardness pushing into my back. I rolled over and tucked my head under his chin.

"Hi," I whispered.

"Hi," he responded. Antonin pushed my shoulder down, rolling me on to my back. He kissed me slowly, languidly. I was glad he'd apparently used a breath freshening charm. I kissed him back, arching up against his hard, warm chest. He kissed down my neck to the collar of the sweater I'd worn to bed.

He pulled it over my head and ran a hand down my chest, across the scar he'd left there. He palmed my breast and murmured, "Beautiful."

"You don't have to lie," I smiled back, "I'll still want to sleep with you."

To my surprise, Antonin pulled back, "What do you mean, lie?" he asked.

I shifted awkwardly. Why was he making this difficult?

"I know the scars aren't beautiful," I mumbled. "It's fine. I'm over it."

"You are more beautiful with the scars," he insisted seriously, "They show what you have survived. They show that you are a fighter. This one," he traced his hand across the purple scar, "has killed people weaker than you. My wife is strong."

I blushed and looked away.

"Who told you this?" He demanded.

I shrugged, "I'm sure you don't actually want to know about my romantic life before I married you."

"Well whoever it was, he did not appreciate you," said Antonin seriously. I shrugged again, not sure what to say.

Antonin's eyes took on a mischievous glint. "Now," he proclaimed grandly, "you have a husband who will worship every-" he kissed my nipple lightly, "single," he continued down my stomach, "inch", he pulled off my panties, "of your body."

I grinned, and Antonin buried his head between my legs.


	18. From the memories of Antonin Dolohov: 3

Antonin lay on his side, looking at his wife sleeping in the rays of morning sunlight. Her riotous hair was spread all over the pillow, and her olive skin shone against the white sheets. She looked peaceful, content even, causing Antonin to marvel at how much had changed between them in a few short weeks.

The ghost of a smile flickered across his face as he remembered the wild, blood-covered woman who had stood in his room on the first night, ready to fight him barehanded. Hermione might be impulsive at times, but Antonin found that her fiery personality had won his respect. And, it was dead sexy besides. He curled an arm around the sleeping woman and she burrowed into the warmth of his chest, still blissfully asleep.

Antonin couldn't stop thinking about their conversation from the night before. Deep down, he had a sinking feeling that Hermione was dead on the money, not that he would ever tell her that.

His parents had both tried to tell him when he'd joined the Death Eaters, but he was young and hotheaded, convinced he had all the answers in the world. Now, fifteen years later, he could see Voldemort for what he was- a tyrant. Privately, he had been thrilled when he thought the Dark Lord dead the first time. He had stayed in England, working as a curse breaker, and managed to rebuild his life. He'd had a stylish flat in London and traveled extensively for work. In fact, he'd never been in one place more than a week. He missed that freedom every day, but he knew that Voldemort wasn't going anywhere.

All the travel, he reflected to himself, was probably the reason that he'd never had a serious relationship before. Or maybe he just didn't know how. In the pureblood society in Russia where Antonin grew up, you were either casually sleeping together or married. Getting married signified a deep trust between two people, a mutual agreement to defend the other and their house. Often romance went along with it, sometimes it didn't.

Or at least that was the theory. In practice, most of the relationships Antonin had grown up around were alliances arranged my the heads of families and were frosty, or downright abusive. Antonin had no idea how to be a husband, but he had some very strong ideas about what he did _not_ want to do.

With that thought in mind, Antonin inclined his head to drop a kiss on his sleeping wife. She stirred in his arms, eyes fluttering open, and stretched languidly.

"I'm starving!" she proclaimed, "Can we ask Mospy for a late breakfast?"

On the spur of the moment, Antonin relied, "No. I have the better idea, get dressed."

"Where-" began Hermione, but Antonin cut her off.

"No questions, little bookworm. Just put on something to go outside,"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, looking suddenly interested.

"Okay!" she assented, and darted into the closet.

In a very short time, she was back wearing a pair of skintight blue muggle pants and a jumper. Antonin had changed into a set of sable-lined winter robes, and he had a large shopping bag in his hand.

"You really propose to go out in those pants?" Antonin asked skeptically.

"Don't be so old-fashioned. They're called jeans, muggles wear them all the time, and they're far more comfortable than robes."

Antonin shrugged, "As you wish, but put on a winter cloak. It will be cold,"

Looking even more intrigued, Hermione grabbed a fur-line cloak and threw it over the chair next to her. As she bent down to tie her trainers, Antonin could see why muggles loved those pants. It was taking all of his self-restraint not to bend her over the nearest surface and rip them off of her. Maybe later, he told himself.

Antonin extended his hand and Hermione took it, her hand tiny in his massive palm.

He walked over to the fireplace and took some floo powder from a small jade box.

" _Svalsbaarg_ " he annunciated clearly, and then pulled Hermione closely to him so they could step in together.

His grip on her was tight as they spun in the fire, and when they at last tumbled out they found themselves in a dusty, disused living room. All the furniture was covered with sheets. Despite it being morning, it was dark outside, and Hermione could just make out snow drifts piling up outside the windows.

"Don't go getting any ideas, Kroshka, you need a wand to disable the floo wards at the manor,"

Hermione nodded, "I know. I tried already,"

"Of course you did," groused Antonin.

Hermione looked utterly unrepentant. She had clearly been making an effort to contain her questions, but could not any longer.

"Where are we? Who lived here? Why is it abandoned?"

Antonin did not seem to be in an explaining mood.

"My family. They are dead,"

"Oh," said Hermione awkwardly. However, her silence didn't last long. As she followed Antonin out into the hallway and up the sweeping marble staircase, she couldn't help asking, "Why did you bring me here?"

Antonin put a hand out to steady Hermione as she almost tripped on the moth-eaten runner, too busy looking around at all of the sleeping portraits and art lining the walls.

"I thought you might be tired of stay cooped up in the manor all day,"

"So you brought me to another manor?" Hermione teased lightly.

Antonin ignored her, pulling her through a side door at the top of the staircase that led to yet another staircase, this one rickety and winding.

They climbed in silence for three floors, and at last they reached the top. Antonin smirked at the look of confusion on Hermione's face as they were greeted with a blank wall. In answer to her perplexed expression he pulled down a trap door over their heads. A silk ladder fell down from the door.

Hermione climbed up first, giggling when Antonin placed a steadying hand on her behind. He grinned when he heard her gasp, and quickly followed her up. Hermione was sitting on the carpeted floor of a small tower, staring up in awe through the glass ceiling. The bubble-like glass extended right down to the floor, giving them a full view of the dark sky and surrounding snowy landscape.

"We must be really far north," she breathed after a moment.

"The Arctic circle," Antonin answered.

"Wow," whispered Hermione, her eyes fixed on the stars above her.

"My grandfather was an astronomy professor," Antonin explained, "He was a good man. He taught me everything he knew,"

Antonin tried not to imagine what his grandfather would think of him now. Hermione nodded, open-mouthed.

With a grin, Antonin began unpacking the bag he had brought with him, pulling out the breakfast food Mospy had sent up from the dining room and an excellent bottle of elvish wine.

The couple ate in a companionable silence, starting out into the starry sky and swirling snow. Once they had finished breakfast, Antonin poured them each a glass of wine and sat back against one wall of the room. Hermione settled herself between his legs, learning into his chest and dropping her head back on his shoulder to look up into the sky.

Suddenly, the night began to flicker with eery blue and green lights. Hermione gasped,

"The northern lights!" she whispered, awed.

"You do know everything, little bird?" Antonin responded, amused.

"You know, astronomy was always my worst subject," confessed Hermione, not taking her eyes off of the incredible display of lights above.

"Oh, you get a 99 percent on one exams?" teased Antonin.

"No, really!" insisted Hermione, "I just couldn't see the point of it, I guess."

"You had a shit professor, then."

"You think so?"

"Definitely. Astronomy's crucial in potion-making; so muchf potions depend on the celestial energies aligning just so. And even more so in curse-breaking. Ancient wizards used to create curses that could only be broken at certain celestial alignments."

"Why would they do that?"

"It was a..." Antonin searched for the word, "Maintenance door," he said finally, "It let them enter and strengthen their work on certain days, make sure the curse hadn't lost potency or different curses hadn't canceled each other over time,"

"That's fascinating," said Hermione earnestly.

Encouraged by her genuine interest, Antonin continued, "Once when I working with a team from Jama'a Beruit one of our interns completely miscalculated the alignment of Mercury relative to the moon. Poor boy never get his fingernails back on that hand,"

Hermione grimaced, and Antonin trapped her own hands between his own.

"Not to worry, I will make sure you keep both hands," he smiled.

"I always wanted to learn about curse breaking," Hermione said wistfully, "But Bill won't teach me. Said I was too impatient by half and I'd end up losing an arm or something,"

Antonin laughed softly, "He may have been right,"

He opened his mouth to say that he would still teach her, but stopped himself. Sometimes he almost forgot that if she got her hands on a wand she would be gone from his life forever. At times like this, he could almost ignore the fact that she was in reality his prisoner. He suspected she preferred to ignore it too.

After a moment, Antonin asked, "Would you have looked twice at me? If you'd had a choice?"

Hermione turned her head to look up at Antonin appraisingly.

"I would have," she said simply. After a moment she grinned wickedly, "Ginny always said I like them old and dangerous,"

"Old, am I?" rumbled Antonin, amused. "I'll show you old!"

He dug his fingers into her ribs and grinned as she squealed, trying to escape his tickling.

Suddenly, he clapped his hand to his arm and hissed. Hermione froze immediately.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked with concern.

Antonin shook his shaggy blonde head and replied, "Summons."

They were both dragged back to the cold waters of reality in that instant, and their smiles died away. Without speaking, Antonin waved his wand to send everything back into the bag. He grabbed Hermione's arm roughly and apparrated them back downstairs to the fire place. Taking the jade box outside of his pocket, Antonin lit a fire and threw the sparkling green powered in.

The couple stepped into the fire and sad, dusty living room whirled away in a dizzying storm of emerald.

Their feet had barely touched their bedroom floor when Antonin pecked Hermione on the cheek distractedly and disapparated without another word.


	19. Interview with Hermione Granger: 15

With Christmas fast approaching, I was pleasantly surprised to see that Malfoy hadn't been exaggerating all those years about pureblood christmas decorations. The manor was filled with lush swags of greenery, carved ice sculptures, and trees glowing with white and gold baubles. The pianos had all been charmed to play Christmas music whenever anyone entered a room.

On the night of the Christmas ball, a Lestrange family tradition, I found myself inside the walk-in closet flipping through Pansy's seemingly endless collection of dresses. I was nervous about being at a ball with all of the Death Eaters at once, especially as over the years I had faced many of them in battle. I wasn't sure that my new pureblood status would do much to diminish their anger about that. I hoped I hadn't killed the relatives of anyone who would be there, but I was certain I'd inflicted some grievous injuries.

"Who's going to this thing?" I asked in a would-be casual voice.

Antonin replied from the adjacent closet, "All the Death Eaters and other members of the Sacred 28. And a smattering of other important officials in the government."

My blood ran cold and I froze with a horrible cherry red gown half way off, "Like Umbridge?" I squeaked.

"Why do you ask?" Antonin queried.

"I think she probably wants to kill me. I think a lot of people there might, to be honest."

To my surprise, Antonin laughed, "That's my lion," he chuckled, "Well you'll be safe with me, little one. Nobody would dare attack my wife at a public function."

Although he couldn't see, I raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"What did you do to Umbridge in particular?" he asked.

"Mmmm...I may have handed her over to a herd of angry centaurs in my fifth year."

I heard a low whistle, "How in the hell did you get away safely?"

"Pure dumb luck really. They decided to let us go because we were still kids. I didn't even mean to do it, I was trying to get Hagrid's half-brother Grawp to deal with her for us."

At this, Dolohov let out another booming laugh, "I take it back. You're not lion at all. You belong in Slytherin. I should have known years ago when you hit me with that memory charm."

"You know about that?" I squeaked.

"Of course. You didn't think the Dark Lord would just accept that we'd woken up dazed and confused in a muggle restaurant did you?"

"I didn't really think about it, to be honest. Did he hurt you to retrieve it?"

"A bit," Antonin replied casually, "but you didn't bury it too deep. I suspect you hadn't done many memory charms before."

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed sincerely, "I never intended to hurt you."

I could almost feel Antonin roll his eyes, "It's war, mishka. I would have killed you."

I couldn't think of any reply to that. Instead, I pulled on yet another dress. This one was green velvet with a matching heavy, fur-lined cloak. Despite the wintry fabric, it sat just off the shoulders and plunged daringly between my breasts and swept low across the back. I stretched out my arms in the long sleeves and twirled around. Perfect.

I left the closet and crossed to Antonin's desk, where Mopsy was waiting to spell my hair and makeup.

She gave me a firm shove into the chair and hopped up on the desk, towering over me in a way I suddenly found rather intimidating.

"We will fix Mistress's hair today, oh yes we will. Mopsy has a plan,"

By this time, I knew better to argue with the little house-elf and simply closed my eyes. I felt magic sparking in my hair and my gut twisted for a moment with how much I missed my wand. I'd been learning a little wand-less magic from Severus, but it was nowhere near as powerful.

Finally, Mopsy hopped off the desk and I opened my eyes to see her grinning triumphantly. She grabbed my hand and dragged me over to a mirror. I watched my expression change to shock, as I almost didn't recognize myself. My hair fell in loose, sleek curls and the makeup gave me a come-hither look that I'd never managed to master despite Ginny and Lavender's endless makeup tutorials.

"It's beautiful, Mopsy. Thank you," I said sincerely.

She shrugged critically and rolled her bulging eyes, "You is looking better. Better yet if you is letting me take those unsightly dots off your face."

"Don't you dare, Mopsy. I like her freckles," Antonin ordered sternly from behind me.

I turned around and he froze for a moment, looking like a deer in the headlights. Even the crack of Mopsy disapparating didn't rouse him.

"You don't like it?" I asked uncertainly. At that, Antonin seemed to regain the use of his legs.

"Too much," he replied, coming closer and putting a finger under my chin to tip my face up to his, "I've half a mind not to let you out in that,"

I decided to mess with him a bit. "I thought you said that all your Death Eaters were lovely, honorable lads."

He grunted noncommittally and I laughed.

"You're the one making me go to this horrible ball. At least I get to look nice," I groused.

"I suppose so," he rumbled, "But I will be keeping a close eye on you. Among some Purebloods it is almost a game to try to lure a man's wife away from him."

"And what makes you think I'm so easily lured?" I teased.

"Well you fell into my bed, didn't you?" He replied with a rare smile. With another twist in my stomach, I realized that our banter reminded me of the old days with Harry and Ron, before the world went to hell and I ended up married to a Death Eater.

Antonin sensed my mood drop, and he pulled me to him, "Don't worry, little one. It will all be fine,"

"I know. I'll be with you," I replied, and was surprised to find that it felt like the truth.

...

Once we reached the lawn, I couldn't help but gasp. Somehow they had erected three walls made of living trees, furnished inside with benches, tables and an obsidian dancefloor. The trees were intertwined with fairy lights, and the full moon shone down on the party. The fourth side of the structure stood open to the gardens. At the entrance, Rodolphus and Bellatrix Lestrange were welcoming their guests. I steeled myself and pasted what my mother had always called a "social smile" onto my face.

"Dolohov!" Bellatrix cried delightedly, slurring her words in an appalling way as her breasts threatened to pop free from the bodice of her dress, "And the little girly Dolohov too. Not a mudblood any more, though! Maybe I should update your tattoo."

Antonin and I both stiffened, and everyone around the circle winced. Antonin's hand clenched tightly on my arm, but Bellatrix sailed on unawares. As she launched back into a story she'd evidently been telling about a family of muggles she murdered, I whispered to Antonin, "You're hurting my arm."

He loosened his grip, and made an effort to look politely interested in the story. I turned away slightly, unable to listen. Rodolphus took the opportunity to draw me to the side and ask me how my work with Snape was going. At first I was grateful to him for saving me from his awful wife's clutches, but it quickly became clear that he had other intentions.

"You must pardon my wife. I can't stand her really, but that's marriage. I suppose you of all people understand," Rodolphus leered at me with what he clearly thought to be a charming smirk.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," I replied frostily.

"Oh come now, don't tell me you actually enjoy being married to the Russian menace," he whispered conspiratorially.

I raised an eyebrow, too incensed for words.

"I mean," he continued, his eyes trailing down the neckline of my dress, "A beautiful little thing like you needs a man who can appreciate her. Someone who would be attentive to all of her... needs."

"Our marriage is not a subject open to discussion," I bit out at last, the muscles in my jaw working furiously.

Rodolphus didn't look put off in the slightest. On the contrary he smirked, his voice dropping lower still, "Well if it ever does become so, I can assure you that I am a consummately, devotedly attentive listener."

I narrowed my eyes at him. I was sure he'd had a fair bit of success with that routine. For all he was a piece of human slime mold, nobody could deny that he was an attractive one. Fortunately I was saved replying by Antonin's hand on my back.

"Drinks," he growled, and dragged me away from the horrible couple.

I opened my mouth to say something, but he fixed me with a glare and groaned, "I know. I know."

...

We passed the next few hours pleasantly enough. I was surprised to discover that Antonin was a good dancer, if a bit stiff and formal. He was able to make up for my clumsy footwork and was kind enough not to wince when I trod on his shoes. We talked with several of my less-hated Death Eaters and managed to avoid the ones I thought might hold grudges. Antonin had left me to a long chat with Daphne while Malfoy Jr. watched from across the floor, trying to look like he wasn't watching.

"You can't tell me you don't like him at all," I pressed her, slightly tipsy after a few glasses of wine, and gesturing none-too-stealthily at Draco, "I've seen how you look at him when you think nobody will notice."

She sighed, which turned into a giggly hiccough, "It's not that at all. I think he's positively delicious," she whispered.

"Then what's the hold-up?" I exclaimed dramatically, "Why aren't you having a lovely, ferret themed wedding?"

She elbowed me in the side, "You are awful!" she giggled. Her expression clouded over, "But seriously, I don't want to get married in the middle of all of this."

I nodded. I hadn't wanted to either.

She fixed me with a surprisingly sober look, "I know you understand. I don't know how you've been managing not to get pregnant, with contraceptive potions banned by the Dark Lord."

I tried to interrupt her, but she cut me off, "And I don't want to know, really. But I know you understand not wanting to bring children into the world at a time like this."

I hugged her, "Of course I do."

"We're venturing into dangerous territory," she sniffed, looking around worriedly, "Anyway, Mospy will kill us both in our sleep if we mess up her makeup by crying."

I gave a watery laugh, "Too true. She's a terror."

At that moment, Theodore Nott appeared and asked Daphne to dance. I waved her on, and she threw me an apologetic glance over her shoulder. I sat back in my chair and looked around. Malfoy Jr. was still skulking across the dance floor, looking at Daphne and Nott with a resigned expression on his face.

No doubt fueled by the alcohol, I made a split second decision and skirted around the dance floor over to him.

"Are you both just going to moon around like lovesick kneazles forever?" I demanded without preamble.

"Hello to you too, Granger," he grouched, then amended himself, "Sorry. Dolohov."

"I don't mind being called Granger," I offered, "It's still my family name."

"But it isn't really, is it?" he countered.

"Well, they were my parents. They're the only family I've ever known."

"You know, I don't get you, Granger. All these years you were so desperate to be accepted into the magical world, and now you have the chance and you reject it."

I was surprised at his accurate assessment. I'd never really imagined he reserved much head space for people besides himself.

"I guess I found out there are some prices I'm not willing to pay, even for what I thought I wanted most," I replied honestly.

"Tell me about it," Malfoy answered absently.

"You mean Daphne?" I asked.

Malfoy whipped around and fixed me with an angry look. I held my hands up apologetically,

"Don't worry. I won't run around telling anyone. I care about her, you know."

Malfoy deflated a bit, "I'm glad. She needs a friend. A lot of people shunned her when it became clear she wasn't taking the mark."

"Can't the Dark Lord make her?" I asked curiously.

"Of course he could. But he just sees her as breeding stock. Doesn't realize what a powerful witch she is because she wasn't dumb enough to go around showing off."

We were both silent for a moment.

"Malfoy-" I began suddenly, but to my surprise he cut me off.

"Draco," he corrected, not meeting my eyes.

"Okay, Draco then. If things were different, would you want to be with her?"

"Of course I would," he snapped, "But I'm not willing to become some breeding pair pumping out babies for the cause."

"I know. Neither is she."

"So why bring it up?" he snapped.

"What do you think will happen?" I pressed, "Do you honestly believe that the Dark Lord will just let her sit around unmarried forever?"

Draco didn't reply. He was gripping the railing next to him in a white-knuckled grip. At that moment, I noticed Bellatrix staggering over to us, clearly curious about our conversation. I grabbed Draco by the arm.

"Show me around the gardens," I practically ordered him.

We ducked out the door and hurried off into the dense maze of foliage. As soon as we were out of sight, Draco grabbed me by both arms and turned me around.

"Are you telling me he plans to marry her off to someone else?" he demanded.

"I don't know, but it makes sense doesn't it?" I replied.

Draco looked around and then cast a _muffliato_.

"Granger, can you get her out? Are you still in touch with the Order? I'll do anything."

I thought for a moment.

"Would you go with her?"

To my surprise, Draco sank down on a nearby bench and put his head in his hands. He replied in a low voice, "I can't leave my parents like that. Mother might come with me, but Father truly believes in this shit. He's in it 'til the end."

"And are you willing to go to the end with him?" I pressed, "Are you willing to die for a cause you don't believe in?"

I was a stab in the dark, but I knew it had hit home when Draco took a different tactic,

"I don't even know if she wants me. We've never talked about-"

"She wants you, you moron," I interrupted.

His head snapped up, and I won't lie, I really enjoyed the shocked look on his face. However, we didn't have much time before we'd be missed by those at the party, so I continued in a businesslike manner.

"You'll have to flip. All three of you, Narcissa included. Tell anything and everything you know. Probably be imprisoned without your wands for the duration of the war."

"Done," Draco replied barely a moment's hesitation.

"Okay. I'll see what I can do. Don't say anything to anyone yet."

I turned to go, but Draco called me back, "Granger, come with us."

I turned around sadly, "I can't."

He scoffed, "Oh please. You know Potter won't care you were married to a Death Eater. After the war is over I'll help you kill him and hide the body if that's what you want."

I smiled. He definitely wasn't the snotty little boy I'd known growing up. However, I had to make up something to throw him off the scent. Thinking quickly, I replied, "There's a locator charm in the wedding binding. Anywhere I go, Antonin immediately follows." I gave him a genuine smile and added, "Thank you though. I mean it."

When I slipped back into the ball, I immediately spotted Antonin storming around looking murderous. I grabbed a glass of wine from a passing elf, sat down on a bench and tried to look calm and collected. As soon as his eyes met mine, he stormed across the floor, not even noticing the dancers scattering before him. Oh fuck.

When he reached me, he didn't say a word. He grabbed my hand and dragged me into an alcove in the wall, waving his wand to make it grow closed behind us. He glared at me for a moment, his face like thunder.

"Explain," he growled.

"Explain what?" I tried feebly. This was clearly the wrong move because he took another step forward, trapping me between his body and the wall and forcing me to tilt my head up to look into his eyes.

"Malfoy. What you were doing with him?" he growled, his accent becoming more prominent in his anger.

"Not what you think," I retorted, refusing to be cowed.

"So you not sneaking off into garden with him?" he asked, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Oh no, I was doing that," I replied blithely. I knew it was dangerous to rile him up like this, but I couldn't help myself.

He fisted his hand in my hair and forced me to look into his eyes, "What. The. Fuck," he bit out softly, which I knew was a sure warning sign that things were about to go very poorly.

"Not like that, Antonin," I sighed, "We were talking about Daphne."

"Bullshit," he growled.

I put my hand on his cheek and looked into his icy blue eyes, "Look if you don't believe me," I ordered.

" _Legilimens"_ he whispered. I opened my mind and let him see a part of our conversation.

 _Draco sat with his head in his hands, "I don't even know if she wants me. We've never talked about-"_

 _"She wants you, you moron," I interrupted._

 _His head snapped up, and hope shone in his eyes._

Dolohov's hand loosened in my hair, and he looked slightly embarrassed.

"I thought-" be began, but I waved my hand to cut him off.

"I know, it's okay" I interrupted, suddenly not wanting to hear it.

I shifted against him uncomfortably and suddenly became aware of how close we were, and of the undeniable hardness digging into my belly. I was surprised to realize that I was incredibly aroused. I looked up at him, and pulled his head down to mine.

Suddenly we were kissing, and he was sliding his hands down my body, picking me up so I was forced to twine my legs around him.

His hands cupped my ass and I could feel the soft moss of the wall pressing into my back. With a low groan, he broke off the kiss and pulled my hair to tip my head back. He was kissing down my neck, biting and sucking. I moaned and rocked against him, desperate for more. He pulled down my dress, still with his other hand holding me against him, and massaged my breasts as he nibbled on my collarbone.

I raked my nails down his back, and whimpered, "Please, Antonin, please."

I could feel his hardness between my legs and writhed against him, cursing the thick velvet of my dress.

I hear him murmur " _Divesto_ " against my ear, and suddenly I was naked against him. I shivered as my nipples brushed against the rough wool of his robe. I fisted my hands in his hair and rocked against him again, reveling in the feeling of his clothed erection against my wetness.

Suddenly he hitched me up higher, and speared two fingers into me. I cried out and pulled his hair sharply.

"Mine," he growled. I moaned and he pushed in a third finger, "Say it," he ordered.

"Yours!" I half-whined, half-moaned, "All yours."

I found that some messed up part of me wished desperately that it were true.

He pulled his fingers out abruptly. I whimpered, and then felt his fingers against my lips. I opened my mouth obediently and he slipped two fingers inside.

"Suck," he ordered, and I complied, feeling bizarrely turned on by the taste of myself on his fingers, loving the way his eyes darkened.

Suddenly, I felt a pressure at my entrance, and then he was inside me.

"Merlin, yes Antonin!" I cried, forgetting where we were.

He slid in and out of me, his strong arms cradling my body to keep me from being slammed too forcefully into the wall. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and wiggled a little higher, so he hit that spot inside of me. Stars blossomed behind my eyelids, and I knew I wouldn't last long. I dropped my head to his shoulder and bit down, trying to keep from screaming.

Antonin was slamming into me, and I abruptly realized what he was chanting each time: "Mine, mine, mine,"

The possessive words pushed me over the edge, and I came hard, pulsing around his cock. I felt him jerk and felt the warmth of his cum inside my body. As I came down from the high of my orgasm, my body went totally limp, and I clung to Antonin. It should have been uncomfortable, but I reveled in the feeling of being crushed against the wall by his body.

After a few long minutes, he sighed and set me carefully on my feet. With a wave of his wand, I was dressed again, as was he. He looked down at me and cupped my cheek in his hand. He offered me a soft smile, and then grimaced.

"I think I may have ruined your hair. Mopsy is going to kill me."


	20. Interview with Hermione Granger: 16

The next morning when I went down to the potions lab to meet Severus, I was practically skipping.

"Draco and Daphne will defect! Narcissa too!" I explained, "Can we hide them?"

Severus raised an eyebrow, "Draco's willing to leave his father?"

I shrugged, "Love."

"Alright," Severus said simply, "I'll arrange it. Now get back to that slow-acting venom you started yesterday. I have to travel this week, so you'll be left to finish it alone."

I turned my back to hide a smile. It was an undeniable compliment that Severus believed I could finish this tricky, complex potion alone.

"Anything else you'd like me to work on?" I asked.

Severus didn't answer immediately, as he was occupied in delicately removing the eyes of a lion-fish. That completed, he grunted, "Rowle."

I groaned. "He hates me," I protested petulantly, "he harassed me all through my first and second years. He lit my hair on fire once."

Severus smirked, "You could have stood to lose some."

I flicked a salmon spleen at his head, and he vaporized it with his wand.

"I suspect his father may have something to do with the location of the last Horcrux."

"Any idea what?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking you to find out."

I narrowed my eyes. "Fine," I sulked, "When will I even see him?"

"He's coming to dinner tomorrow night. He and Lestrange are supposed to go nogtail hunting tomorrow morning."

"And I'm supposed to what?" I demanded, "Lure him into the bathroom and fuck him while my husband drinks whiskey in the next room over?"

Severus grimaced. I always forgot how uncomfortable he felt about asking me to do this. I smiled,

"Oh come on, Severus. If I have to do this I at least deserve to joke about it a bit."

"As you wish," said Severus stiffly.

"So," I prompted with a dramatic roll of my eyes, which I was pleased to hear cause Severus to grind his teeth, "Any ideas on how I'm supposed to pull this off exactly?"

"I can get Dolohov out of the way for you. I'm to be looking for werewolf clans who haven't yet aligned themselves this week, and I can ask him to come with me for backup."

I nodded, "That will help a bit. I'll work out the rest I suppose."

Snape grimaced, "No details please."

That night at dinner, the party ended up being quite small. It was only myself, Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, and Rowle. The meal was awkward to say the least. It appeared that Bellatrix and Rowle despised each other, for reasons that neither seemed eager to talk about. They spent the meal throwing increasingly pointed barbs at each other, and Bellatrix ended up drinking herself into such a stupor that she set fire to the dinner table before the pudding came out.

Rodolphus apologized profusely to the both of us as he dragged her off to bed, still screaming, "You horrendous little half-troll!".

Rowle and I finished our dinner in silence. His knuckles were white on his knife and fork, and a muscle in his jaw was twitching. I subtly turned up the pheromones just a tad before taking a deep breath and breaking the silence as the pudding disappeared,

"So what in the world happened between you two?"

"That story would take hours," Rowle growled.

"I've got time," I offered, "And there's some lovely elf-made whiskey in the salon."

Rowle raised an eye at me, "Why the fuck do you want to talk to me? I was nothing but an asshole to you in school."

I shrugged, barely restraining myself from snapping that there was nothing I wanted less, "As you can see, my circumstances have changed a bit. To be honest I'm somewhat starved for company."

"Fine," growled Rowle, "But just for the whiskey."

I nodded and stood languidly, letting my hips swing a little more in my skin-tight robes as I led the way into the salon. I settled myself onto a love seat by the fire and gestured with a nod for Rowle to sit by me.

I picked up the whiskey off of the side table, not so accidentally brushing my arm against his. I poured us both a healthy dose and leaned back, resting my head on the back of the couch and letting my eyes drift shut. I suspected Rowle was the type that would get defensive if he felt he was being chased.

I breathed deeply and enjoyed the warmth of the whiskey and the fire. After a moment, Rowle broke the silence,

"She fucked my sister."

I raised an eyebrow. I hadn't been expecting that one, "And?" I asked.

"What do you mean _and?"_ he demanded angrily.

"Well what's the problem?" I asked in a relaxed voice, refusing to rise to his anger.

"The kid got attached," he growled. "She was only sixteen. Thought it was true love. I guess Bella had promised to leave Rodolphus for her. All bullshit of course. I told her to leave it alone, but of course that only made her more determined. That sick fuck enjoyed playing her."

I opened my eyes and shifted so I could look at him head on. The way the words were tumbling out, I wondered if Rowle had ever talked about this before.

"I guess Emma had sent her some compromising photos. Once Bella got bored of her she dropped her like a rock and shared the photos with all of her sick Death Eater buddies. Emma was so upset and betrayed she had a mental breakdown. Went totally berserk and ran into the battle of Hogwarts alone, an emotional wreck. We only ever found pieces."

My eyes filled with tears, but I knew that the last thing Rowle needed was to comfort me. Instead, I just laid my head on his shoulder and twined my hand in his. I felt guilt twist my stomach that he had shared something so deep and personal with me, and I was getting ready to play him. It's so much worse whenever I'm reminded that the bad guys are people too.

Rowle's breath hitched, and I suspected that he was on the verge of tears. I didn't move, and he gradually got himself under control. Finally I sat up and refilled our whiskeys, gesturing at him to drink.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered.

"What, not going to kick me when I'm down?" he tried to joke.

"Not really my style," I replied with a small smile.

Rowle cocked his head at me, "What is?" he asked with a tone of genuine curiosity, looking at me like an animal in the magical menagerie that had just manifested a weird power.

I leaned up and cupped his stubbly cheek in my hand. His eyes widened but he didn't pull away as I lightly kissed him.

I pulled back and dropped my gaze,

"Sorry," I said after a moment, "I shouldn't have-"

But before I could say more, Rowle fisted his hand in my hair and kissed me hard. He pulled back for a moment to cast a locking charm on the door, then pulled me into his lap. I straddled him, letting my robes ride up my legs. He ran his rough palms up my thighs and cupped my ass, pulling me closer to him.

He stroked his broad hands down my back, kissing and biting the column of my neck. I moaned and ground myself against him.

"I can't believe I'm getting one over on Dolohov," Rowle laughed against my neck. I felt a sudden stab of anger, but forced it back down.

 _Just focus on how your body feels,_ I coached myself, _let the other stuff go._

I pulled his robes open and ran my hands down his chest, enjoying the feeling of his muscles under my hands. He pulled the neck of my robes open, palming my breasts. His eyes were blazing, and he put his hand behind my back, forcing me to arch my breasts up towards his mouth. He bit lightly on a nipple and I gasped.

"Yes," I groaned. I stood up and let my robes slide off of my shoulders, leaving myself standing before him in only my lacy, cream undergarments. Rowle grabbed my hip and pulled me towards him, kissing my stomach.

"Beautiful," he groaned. I reached a hand behind me and let my bra fall to the floor. Rowle hooked two fingers in my underwear and slid them down my legs. He snaked a hand behind my knee and drew it up on to the couch, so that my exposed pussy was level with his face.

He leaned forward and licked slowly up my slit. I groaned at the feeling, relishing the gentle touch and the scratch of his stubble against my thighs. He licked up my slit again, pausing to suck at my clit. I forgot how exposed I felt as I threw my hand back and moaned. I could feel my legs quaking, but Rowle's hand cupped my ass, keeping me in place. I placed a hand on his shoulder, intending to sink back down onto his lap, but to my surprise he stood up and pushed me down on the couch, face first. I could feel the heat of the fire on my dripping pussy and the back of my legs, and I shivered as Rowle languidly ran a hand down my spine.

I felt his hard cock and my entrance and ground back against him, arching my back and clinging to the back of the couch. He sunk slowly into me, and I whimpered as I felt him fill me up. He pulled back and ground slowly into me again. I tried to push back against him, desperate for him to go faster, but Rowle was clearly enjoying staying in control. His grip on my hip was iron, and I idly hoped the bruises would heal before I got intimate with Antonin again. With a start, I remembered I wasn't just here for fun. I shut my eyes and delved into his mind.

 _Emma's face swam before me, her face dirty and streaked with tears. Rowle called out to her, but she turned and ran into the chaos of the battle._

Rowle rocked against me, his pace still infuriatingly slow.

 _Rowle held his screaming mother as Antonin covered up something on the ground behind him, among the post-battle rubble._

He finally started thrusting faster, giving me a smack on the ass. I squeaked with surprise, which turned into a moan as he slammed into me again.

 _Rowle's father led a 10-year old him deep into a cave in Scotland. "This place is full of old magic," he told his son reverently, "It is our heritage, and our family's sacred duty to defend it."_

Rowle leaned back, changing the angle and hitting a spot inside me that made me see stars. "Gods, yes!" I whimpered quietly, well aware that the room wasn't soundproofed.

 _"You can't let the Dark Lord defile our family's sacred cairn," Rowle's mother snapped, "It is our bloodline's legacy. The seat of our power. Of YOUR power."_

With a start, I realized that I was coming hard on Rowle's cock. I felt my pussy pulse around him as he ground into me, riding out the orgasm with me. Once I fell limply on to the couch in front of me, he pulled out and sat beside me. He pulled me on to his lap and kissed me deeply. I could feel his hard cock against the sensitive skin of my slit. He gently lifted me up and lifted me on to his cock.

"Ride me, little bookworm," he growled in my ear, "Nice and slow."

I obliged and bounced up and down on his cock, tipping my head back and letting my breasts bounce. He palmed them with a groan and lightly guided me. I reached behind my back and fondled his tightening balls, suddenly wanting to feel him come inside me. Rowle growled, and I could feel his legs tense under me. I felt almost giddy with the pleasure and the power of control (and maybe the whiskey). Suddenly Rowle was coming, and I dropped my head against his shoulder and rocked against him, loving the feel of his warm seed inside me.

We stayed like that for a long moment, Rowle carding his hand through my hair. Finally, Rowle reached for his wand and cast cleaning and contraceptive charms. I slid off his lap, and reached for my glass of whiskey. I swallowed the last mouthful, and then dressed myself slowly. Strangely, I didn't feel any awkwardness or embarrassment at what I'd just done with my old school rival. I suppose it helped that he had bared himself to me in a way more personal way. My clothes re-arranged, I leaned forward and lightly kissed Rowle, who still hadn't moved a muscle.

"Goodnight," I said quietly. He didn't respond, and I turned and made for the door. As I shut it behind me, I heard him whisper,

"Goodnight Hermione."


	21. Interview with Hermione Granger: 17

The next morning I decided to read for a bit, knowing that Severus wouldn't be back for a few days. Antonin had returned late last night, but told me that Severus still had a few more locations to visit. I spent an idyllic morning reading in the library, shifting only as often as necessary to stay in the slice of sunlight beaming through the frost-covered window. At last, I couldn't ignore the growling of my stomach any more and decided to wander into the kitchen and find some lunch.

I opened the door to leave the library and collided with something very solid. I took a step back to see who or what I'd run into, and promptly took two more steps back. Before me stood Fenrir Greyback, smelling just as awful as ever. I wanted to distance myself even more, to get away from the smell of blood, sweat and something darker, but I was determined not to show an ounce of weakness.

"Greyback," I bit out, willing my voice not to tremble.

"Well, well, well," he drawled, "I've been hoping to run into you here. You've come a long way, wildling, from Death Eater's whore to Death Eater's bride."

The rational side of my brain knew it was very unwise to antagonize him, but I suspect that part of my brain has been permanently damaged by extended contact with Harry Potter. "Hardly," I rejoined curtly, "For one thing you're not a real Death Eater."

Greyback actually growled at me, "Watch your mouth, wildling. You wouldn't want me telling your dear husband about our sordid past, would you?"

His threat was spot on, but I couldn't let him know that. " _We_ don't have a past, Greyback. Now if you'll get out of my way, I have things to attend to."

Rather than moving out of my way, Greyback stepped inside with a feral smile and shut the door behind him.

"So eager to get away from me? I was rather hoping that we could have a reunion, re-live some old times."

"Not a chance, wolf. My husband will rip you limb from limb. I'd do it myself, but I find myself without a wand."

"Well that's the crux of the issue, isn't it little wildling?"

"What is?"

"That unless you let me fuck you, right now in this library, I'll be forced to tell your husband all about our past... dealings."

I thought quickly. I was pretty sure that he had the upper hand here. Dolohov would have no use for a wife who'd been fucked by half the damn snatchers and a hand-full of his Death Eater brethren besides. Definitely not up to the "standards of his house".

I didn't really think he'd kill me to dissolve the marriage ( _but wouldn't he? He's killed before. What makes you think you're so special to him?_ ). But at the very least he'd lock me away and take on another wife.

I knew that if my only goal was the mission succeeding, I should just acquiesce to Greyback's demand and carry on as normal. However, I couldn't bring myself to go that far. I just was not going to let his bastard rape me again.

That left me two options: kill Greyback now, or get Severus to help me escape before Greyback had a chance to get to Dolohov. I eyed Greyback's position. I didn't think I could get out of the library without him snatching me. That left one option.

I silently cursed the twins; whose bright idea was it to not give me any weapons implants? _Fuck it,_ I decided. Either he'd win this fight and get what he wanted, or I'd win and get to come up with a story to explain away the body on the library floor.

All the time I'd been thinking, Greyback had been edging closer and closer to me. He was much bigger than me, and more powerfully built. However, I wasn't the same under-fed, over-tortured girl he'd met last time. I decided I'd at least give him a run for his money.

I grabbed a large china vase and hurled it at his head. He got his arm up in time to block it, but I quickly closed the space between us and got in two quick jabs to his face before he was able to recover. He threw a wild haymaker at me, and I was forced to step back.

We circled each other slowly, eyes fixed on the other. Bizarrely, Greyback grinned and didn't draw his wand. I had a sinking feeling he'd enjoy this. Unfortunately that also meant that my shield wouldn't be any use, which I had been counting on.

He threw a couple of punches at me, but I skipped back easily out of range. The problem, I was realizing, was going to be his reach. With his long arms, he could land solid blows on me without ever being in danger himself. The next punch he threw, I stepped into and deflected with my shoulder. Taking advantage of the moment inside his guard, I hit him with a couple of hooks in the ribs. He wheezed, but to my surprise before I could get back out of range, he wrapped both arms around me and picked me up.

I found myself slammed against the library door, and felt my teeth puncture my lip as my head bounced off the wood. I couldn't move my arms, and my legs dangled uselessly off the floor. Seizing the only avenue open to me, I leaned forward and sunk my teeth into his cheek. Greyback's grip loosed suddenly in his surprise, and he gave a yowl of pain. I took the opportunity to slip out from under his arm and land an elbow to the back of his head before I got loose.

As I made to slip away, I saw his wand sticking out of his back pocket. I made to grab it, but Greyback must have felt my movement. He grabbed it too, and as I pulled away it snapped. Dropping the pieces on the floor, I slipped out of range again. I could feel myself flagging and knew this had to finish quickly.

Greyback looked at the snapped pieces of wand on the floor, and his face was transformed by pure rage. With a roar, he turned around and tried to tackle me. I grunted in surprise and dropped low, just avoiding his snatching arms. He hit the floor but was back up almost immediately. Sensing that he was off balance, I threw myself at him and rained punches on every inch of him I could reach. I could dimly feel his fists battering my body in return as he retreated, but adrenaline drove me on. If he could get me on the floor, I knew I'd be finished.

Suddenly, Greyback and I were hurled away from each other. In a moment of bizarre choreography, we both hit the floor, rolled once and righted ourselves. As one, we dove back at each other like beasts. But instead of slamming into 200 pounds of werewolf, I found myself bouncing harmlessly off of a shimmering barrier.

I shook my head to clear it, and for the first time noticed Dolohov in the room. His face was like thunder.

"WHAT IS THIS?" he roared. Greyback and I both took an instinctive step back, sensing that neither of us was the most dangerous person in the room at that moment, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO MY WIFE, WOLF?"

Greyback wheezed, "Don't look at me, you big lummox. Your wife attacked me."

I was struggling to breathe deeply. I managed to hiss, "Provoked." Then I had to stop and spit out a mouth-full of blood.

Greyback's face was transformed by something between a grimace and a smile, made much more horrible by the blood dripping down his nose and coating his teeth, "Well yes, I did threaten to tell you all about what your wife got up to before you were married."

"Shut your mouth!" I wheezed angrily, "Don't you dare!"

As the words left my mouth, I realized that I'd just lent credence to whatever he was about to say. Fuck.

"What the hell you are talking about?" Asked Dolohov, his accent so strong in his anger that his words were almost incomprehensible.

Greyback's smile broadened. A string of rope-like, bloody saliva descended from his chin. I tried to throw myself at him again, but bounced off the barrier. "Well, before the two of you were united in marital bliss, your Lady Wife over there was whoring around with Death Eaters and Snatchers."

Dolohov looked dumbstruck. All the plans, schemes and missions left my head. I just sat down on the floor in the library and started to cry. For a moment, I thought I was choking on my tears, but then I realized with horror that I was actually choking. I tried to call for help, but I couldn't get the words out. I gestured wildly at my throat, panic threatening to engulf me.

Dolohov's eyes widened, and he yelled, "Mopsy!"

The elf appeared by his side and looked on the scene with undisguised horror.

"I need Narcissa, now!" Antonin ordered. The edges of my vision were starting to go black, and I laid down on the rug. My last conscious thought was that Harry would find it very ironic that I'd died in a library.

To my surprise, I woke up. Every muscle in my body screamed in protest. Narcissa was sitting next to me, reading a glossy magazine, and next to her was Anonin, staring at me with such intensity that I flinched, and then flinched again at the shooting pain in my chest. Antonin grabbed the magazine out of Narcissa's hand.

"She's awake!" he roared.

"I can see that," Narcissa answered calmly. She took back her magazine and placed it carefully on the table before turning to me, "Hermione, can you hear me?"

I nodded, not sure if speaking was a good idea.

"Do you remember what happened?" she asked gently. Nod.

"You had a punctured lung," she informed me, "along with an impressive amount of fractures. You nearly suffocated before I got there."

I nodded again. My mind was spinning. Dolohov looked furious, and I couldn't really blame him.

"Will she be alright?" Antonin demanded angrily.

"Yes, you oaf," snapped Narcissa. She seemed to be at the end of her rope with him, "She just needs rest. I'm going down to get some more potions from Severus."

She stalked out of the room, and I wondered if she just wanted a break from Antonin. Rather than meet his eyes, I looked around the room. It was immaculately decorated in a late regency style, with high windows that bathed the room in light.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Morning," grunted Antonin. I nodded. I wanted to say something else, but couldn't work up the nerve. I also suspected my head might split open.

Antonin slammed himself back down into the chair beside me. I decided I couldn't deal with him just yet, so I shut my eyes again and let myself drift off to sleep.

When I woke up again, I felt much better. My body was still sore, but it felt like post-workout sore rather than near-death sore. I also realized I was starving. It seemed to be much later in the day, judging by the shadows in the room. Narcissa was nowhere to be found, and Antonin was still sitting rigidly in his chair. I wondered if he was just waiting for me to get better so he could kill me. I pressed the locator, but I knew logically that I had no way out, as Severus was off somewhere in Iceland. By the time he returned, this would be over one way or the other.

I noticed a tray next to Antonin with a shimmer over it that indicated a warming charm. I decided if I was going to die, I might as well do some on a full stomach. "Can I eat that?" I asked, gesturing to the tray.

He grunted, and passed me the tray. I sat up, groaning and grabbed a fork. Mopsy had made my favorite comfort meal, steak and baked potatoes.

I dug in eagerly, and didn't stop eating until the plate was completely clean. I didn't dare look over at the chair where my enraged husband sat, clutching the arms.

"Do you want more?" Antonin asked, breaking the silence.

I shook my head. Why was he being so nice to me? Suddenly I couldn't stand it.

"Just get it over with," I snapped.

Antonin opened his mouth, shut it again, and then roared, "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?"

His accent was thick, indicating just how angry he was, but I honestly didn't understand the question.

"What?" I asked, indignantly, "How could I possibly have told you that?"

"I am your husband," he growled.

"Yes..." I agreed, slightly confused, "I didn't want to lie to you, but what could I do? I didn't really fancy dying."

Now Antonin looked confused, "Dying?"

"There's no divorce in the wizarding world, is there? If you want to get rid of me there's just one way out," I stated calmly, wondering why I was explaining this to him instead of the other way round.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, "I mean, why didn't you tell me what happened at Malfoy manor? You had to see those fuckers around this house, go to parties with them, and you never thought to mention to me what had happened?"

"I. Didn't. Want. You. To. Kill. Me." I explained slowly. Surely this was obvious to him.

"Why I would kill you?" He asked, apparently just as confused as i was.

"Well you can't honestly want to be married to me any more," I ventured. I wasn't sure why I was supporting this point of view, but I'm nothing if not a pragmatist.

"Of course I do," he growled, "Why would I blame you for being raped before we met? I know who I blame, and it's not you. And believe me, I will deal with them."

Looking at the set of his jaw, I didn't doubt his word. My mind was reeling. Even Ron, who was supposedly my best friend, hadn't wanted me after what happened. He'd never been able to get over it.

For the first time, Antonin's hard expression softened. He put a hand on my cheek.

"I made that beast tell me what happened. I know it wasn't your fault. Why would you think I would discard you because of that?"

I shrugged, on the edge of tears. Somehow, after what happened at Malfoy Manor, Ron had convinced me that no man would want me, knowing what had happened, how I'd lost my virginity. Even with Sirius, I never even thought about trying to have a real relationship, assuming that he would never want that. What had happened to me wasn't a secret in the Order.

Antonin sighed. "Hermione, I can't imagine what you must think of me. I had no idea that Death Eaters, people I thought were honorable men, would do something like that. I would never have made you stay here, with them, had I known."

I rolled my eyes. How could someone so terrifyingly powerful be so naive?

"You all kill muggles. And mudbloods. And blood traitors. i was just a mudblood when that happened. Are you really surprised?"

"People die in wars, Hermione. It's unavoidable. But what happened to you wasn't war. It was just... sick."

I really did cry then. Antonin sat on the bed next to me and pulled me to him, cradling my head against his massive chest. I head the door open and the tap-tap of Narcissa's heels returned.

"What did you do to that girl?" She demanded shrilly.

Antonin growled.

"I told you not to bother her!" she sniped. Antonin released me gently, one arm still around my shoulders.

I dried my eyes, trying to get myself under control. Narcissa's mouth was pinched tight.

"Let me examine you, then," She sniffed. She ran her wand over me, scanning my body.

"Well it doesn't look like there will be lasting damage, at least. I think you can move her back to your bedroom, Antonin."

"Thank you, Narcissa," I told her sincerely.

She nodded jerkily, and added "Maybe next time don't get in a muggle duel with a full-grown werewolf."

I gave her a small smile, "I'll try to avoid that next time."

"Well, after what your husband did to him-"

"Narcissa!" Antonin interrupted.

"Don't you _Narcissa_ me!" she exclaimed, "Mopsy will be getting those stains off the library walls for a week!"

I leaned over and vomited.


	22. Interview with Hermione Granger: 18

Bless his heart, Antonin was actually surprised when the Dark Lord told ordered him not to go around murdering every man who had ever touched me. Or at least that's what I assumed had happened, as I looked out my window, watching him blast the trees in the back garden to smithereens after his meeting with the Dark Lord.

I felt oddly protective of him in that moment, knowing that he must feel completely betrayed. I knew I should be angry at him, for putting his faith in a such a clearly evil man, but all I could feel in that moment was sympathy. I knew what I was like to find out that someone you'd placed your trust in wasn't who you thought they were.

Eventually, Antonin seemed to get tired of blasting rosebushes and stalked into the manor. I curled myself up in a chair by the fire, not wanting to let him know I'd seen him in the back yard.

At last, Antonin opened the door and walked slowly into our room. I gave him a small smile.

"Hi," I greeted him tentatively.

He stared intently at me for a moment, and then seemed to remember himself.

"Should you be out of bed?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm fine, Narcissa did a wonderful job," I reassured him sincerely. I really felt almost entirely healed, although as tired as if I'd just run a marathon.

Antonin stroked my cheek, touching me as lightly as if I were a butterfly. I looked him in the eye, trying to reassure him that I was indeed alright. After a moment, he sat down in the opposite chair and poured us both a healthy measure of fire whiskey.

We each sipped our whiskeys quietly, staring into the fire. The warmth slipped down my chest, and to my surprise I felt lighter than I had in a long time. I looked at Antonin again, hating the way he was staring into the fire like a lost puppy. I downed the last of my whiskey in one gulp, relishing the sweet, fiery burn that mirrored the warmth of the glowing fire.

"I'm going to take a shower," I announced, uncurling myself from the chair.

Antonin nodded.

"You should come," I added. He looked up at me, surprised.

"Hermione, I don't think..."

"Please."

Antonin hesitated, but got out of his chair and followed.

The beautiful bathroom was full of slanting afternoon sunlight, and the air in it was pleasantly balmy. I sat on the counter as Antonin turned the tap to start the waterfall cascading into the pool set into the floor. Steam spiraled off the surface, and the bathroom was filled with the sound of water running over rocks.

"I thought a bath might be more nice," he said quietly.

I smiled at him and held out my hand. Antonin took it and kissed the palm lightly, cupping my face with his other hand. He leaned down and kissed me gently on the lips, carding his hand through my hair, and I kissed him back slowly.

After a moment, Antonin pulled back. He still looked uncertain.

"Hermione, do you want-"

"I want you," I interrupted softly.

Antonin stood looking at me for a moment and I froze, fearing rejection. Then, his eyes crinkled and he stepped back, pulling his robes off at letting them pool on the floor at his feet. I grinned at the picture he made, standing there in the steam-filled bathroom looking like some sort of catalogue model. I traced my eyes appreciatively over his shoulders, chest, and down to his cock, already hard and jutting out.

He stepped close to me, and I wrapped my legs instinctively around his waist. He kissed me again, deeply, and ran his hands down my back, pulling me flush to him and cupping my ass gently. I moaned into his mouth and ground against him, loving the feeling of his cock through my pajama bottoms. Still touching me hesitantly, as though afraid I might crumble to dust, he unbuttoned my pajama top and palmed my breasts, rolling the nipples lightly between his fingers.

I heard myself give a low whine, and arched up into his touch. He groaned as I ground myself against him again, my head tipping back to rest on the mirror behind me as he played with my breasts. Antonin set me down on my feet for a moment to push my pajama bottoms off, and then picked me up gently and walked over to the pool. He stepped into the water and set me carefully on the mossy edge, pushing me oh-so-gently onto my back and letting my legs hang down in the warm water.

I couldn't stop the needy noises leaving my mouth as he kissed his way down my body to the juncture of my legs. He lapped gently at my slit, inserting a single finger into me and pumping slowly in and out. I was on the edge, desperate for him to push me over.

"Please, more," I begged. He hummed and inserted a second finger into me, and then a third. I was so full, so close to coming. Suddenly, he sucked on my clit and I tumbled over, stars bursting behind my closed eyelids, crying out a jumbled litany of "Antonin, oh my- Antonin!"

Finally, as the wave of pleasure receded, Antonin pulled out his fingers and pushed himself to his feet, sitting on the side of the pool. I pulled him down next to me and he stroked my hair gently. I could feel his cock hard against my hip, but he made no move to continue things.

After a long moment, I pushed him down flat on his back and climbed on top of him, sitting on his stomach. I leaned down and snogged him thoroughly, raking my hands over his scalp and tugging his soft blonde hair gently. I reached between us and ran my hand over his cock, lifting myself up slightly so I could sink down on it.

"Wait," Antonin ordered. I froze.

"You don't have to - today..." he trailed off.

I looked down, suddenly unsure of myself. Maybe he didn't still want me after all, despite what he'd said. Antonin seemed to understand because he sat up and tipped my chin gently so I was looking at him, still straddling his lap.

"I still want you, little one. But I doesn't have to be today,"

"And if I want you today?"

In answer, Antonin shifted me in his lap so the tip of his cock was just probing my wet folds. I closed my eyes and smiled, rolling my hips to sink down onto him. I didn't move for a moment, just relishing the feeling of being full.

Then, I slowly began to grind on him, gasping slightly as he stretched me almost to the point of pain, as always. He placed a careful hand on my back and pulled my chest closer to him, taking one nipple gently between his teeth. I moaned and bounced faster.

God, it felt so good. But I wanted more. Antonin was still touching me with the lightest of caresses, as if I were made of spun glass.

"I won't break," I gasped impatiently, "Please fuck me!"

With a growl, Antonin gripped my hips hander and slammed me down on his cock. I reveled in his bruising grip as he pounded into me, making me scream his name. With surprising speed, I felt my walls tightening again and the warmth spread up from my toes before I came again. Antonin guided me up and down on his cock as I came, prolonging my climax perfectly. At last, I let my head fall forward on his shoulder.

I was practically boneless as Antonin slipped forward to stand in the water, spinning me around and bending me over the side. I loved the way that the water lapped at my thighs, the cooler air hitting my exposed pussy as I looked over my shoulder at him, legs spread and waiting. Antonin palmed my ass and looked down appreciatively.

"Fuck," he growled.

I giggled and wiggled my hips. Without another word, he slid back into me and picked up the pace to a brutal speed, slamming into me with reckless abandon. I ground back into him, feeling as if I might split in two and begging him to never stop. I could feel his anger coming out in his brutal thrusts, but I still felt completely secure. I knew without a doubt that he would never hurt me.

Suddenly, Antonin's fingers tightened on my hips and he spilled his seed inside me with a grunt. After a moment he pulled out slowly and sat down on a ledge inside the pool. I crawled into his lap, the warm water coming up to my neck, and he pulled me against him. He squeezed me so tightly to his chest that I could barely breathe.

"You're okay, little one. Nobody will ever hurt you again," he whispered, so quietly it almost seemed as if he were talking to himself.


	23. Interview with Hermione Granger: 19

Only a few days later found me sleeping fitfully, my rest interrupted by nightmares as it always seemed to be when Antonin was away. Suddenly, I woke fully to light flowing in from the hallway and a whump from the doorway.

I sprung out of bed, fully awake and grabbed the heavy silver candlestick off of the bedside table and raised it, ready to strike. However, there was nobody at the door. After a moment, I spotted a large body lying in the doorway. I crept closer, to see that it was wearing black robes and a silver mask. There seemed to be a pool of something dark spreading from it.

An icy fist clenched around my heart and I darted forward to rip the mask away. My fears were confirmed when I saw Antonin's face below it. Even in the low light coming from the doorway, I could tell that his eyes were swollen shut, and half of his face was caked with blood. His chest was rising and falling, but every breath made a horrible, wet wheezing sound.

I have an odd quality in emergencies, possibly bred of growing up in the middle of a war. Instead of panicking, a strange calm state overtakes me and I watch myself handle it as if I were watching a movie.

"Mopsy," I ordered calmly.

The elf appeared with a crack and gasped, pulling her bat like ears down to hide the horrible sight from her eyes.

"He is dead!" She wailed, "master Toni he is-"

"Not yet he isn't." I cut her off firmly, "Get Snape,"

With a whimper, she departed. The next few hours passed in a blur as I followed Snape's snapped instructions as he worked feverishly to heal my husband. A few times I felt my mind trying to process what had happened, but I shut it down quickly. No time to for thinking yet, not while there was still work to do.

As the first light crept in through the drawn shades, Snape at last departed with an admonishment to not let Antonin out of bed until the next day at least. Antonin was asleep in bed, his breathing labored but steady. His face already looked a great deal better, although there was still some residual swelling. The gaping hole in his sternum had vanished, and his leg had been returned to a natural angle. At last, I allowed myself to sit down in a chair by the fire and take a moment to think. Within seconds of sitting down, I broke.

Sobs wracked my body and I was crying like I hadn't cried in years. I was hiccuping, holding myself and rocking back and forth. I could feel my mouth twisting as I let myself process how close Antonin had been to death. I hadn't allowed myself to consider before now what Antonin had come to mean to me, but I couldn't deny the utter terror I'd felt when I'd thought that he was slipping away from me. At last, I cried myself to sleep, still sitting up in the chair.

When I woke up, Antonin was sitting up in bed, contemplating me with a worried look, his brows scrunching together in a way that added several years to his face.

"You were crying, _malenkiy,"_ he accused me softly.

"You were dying," I returned, my voice rough with sleep. I crossed the room and crawled into bed next to him, curling myself carefully into his side in order not to hurt him.

"No quite yet," he rejoined. He reached an arm up to stroke my hair.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me what happened?" I asked, more for form's sake than anything. As I expected, Antonin grunted a negative answer, but I felt it would have been in poor taste to not even ask why he'd almost been pulverized.

We were quiet for a bit, and then Antonin said,

"I am thinking, what will have happened to you if I died last night,"

I shrugged. Of course, I knew that Snape could help me escape at any moment if it became necessary. Realizing I wasn't going to respond, Antonin continued.

"I do not like answer. What is happening is you are being given to another of my brothers. Someone who will not treat you so carefully,"

I nodded against his hand, knowing that it was true. I was nothing more than a breeding vessel to Voldy.

"I have plan," Antonin said gently, "I think you will not like it, but it will keep you safe."

I rolled over to look at Antonin. His face was deadly serious. I nodded for him to continue explaining.

"In that chest there is a broomstick and money, wizard and muggle, both for English and Russia. If anything happens to me, the wards holding you here will all break. I think that you will feel through your ring if it happens. You must leave immediately, use the broom and muggle transport to get to my family in Russia."

"Antonin, that's sweet," I interrupted, "But I have friends right here in London that will take care of me."

Antonin shook his head, "You don't know what is happening out there. Your side is losing,"

I knew from Snape that this was far from the case, but I was sure that Modly-Voldy was feeding his Death Eaters propaganda to that effect. I couldn't say anything to Antonin without revealing how I knew, however, so instead I answered,

"I'd rather die with them than hide out in Russia,"

Antonin cupped my face in his hand, "Please," he said quietly, "Give yourself the option,"

I sighed, knowing I would ask him for the same thing if I were in his place.

"My friends will protect me if the Dark Lord comes looking," I argued, "I can't imagine that your family would feel obligated to do the same,"

"That is what I getting to," Antonin said, and his tone warned me that this was the part I wouldn't like. "We are married by British Law, but my family is part of an ancient clan. We have our own rituals, our on ways. For my family to protect you, you must get-" he seemed to struggle for words for a moment, "a mark,"

"A what?" My voice rose about an octave.

"Not like this one", Antonin raised his forearm with the Dark Mark.

"I bloody well hope not," I retorted.

"It is a good mark. It means you are one of us, that our fates are bound one to the other,"

"A tattoo?" I clarified.

"Yes, this is the word," Antonin sounded pleased.

"Abso-fucking-lutely not," I snapped.

Antonin's eyes narrowed, "You will,"

"You going to make me?" I snapped

"Yes, if it is for your protection. I am your husband, and I will not let you home to harm,"

I didn't feel terribly upset about it at the moment since he couldn't move anything but his arms.

"I'd like to see you try," I retorted.

"Just you wait," he whispered, and closed his eyes, his arm wrapped around me and I felt his exhausted body drop to sleep.

I however, was suddenly very not sleepy. I had absolutely no desire to get a tattoo marking me as property of the Dolohov family anywhere on my body. If they were anything like the Lestranges, I half expected them to stamp a family crest on my arse.

I cast a critical eye over the part of Antonin that was visible over the bedsheets. His entire torso was covered in abstract tattoos, all navy blue. I'd often traced my fingers over the intersecting patterns of lines and dots. He also had tattoos on the back of his calves that I knew to be Russian runes, and a lattice of interlocking knots around his right bicep. I wondered if any of these were his clan tattoos.

Although I was far from easy in my mind about this situation, in the end I didn't end up getting out of the bed. I resolved to tell Severus about it after a nap; maybe he could find a way to get me out of this. It didn't seem terribly urgent as I didn't imagine Antonin would be up and about for a week at least.

Therefore, rather than let the fear and worry occupy my mind, I chose instead to immerse myself in the book I had on my bedside table. Eventually, I drifted off into a thankfully dreamless sleep

Unfortunately for me, when Antonin awoke he was no less determined and much more mobile. The first thing he did upon waking was get stiffly out of bed and make a floo call through our fireplace. When he re-emerged, I asked him suspiciously what the call had been about.

"I am arranging for tattoo," he explained calmly as he pulled on a pair of thick gray robes. His movements were far too nimble for my liking, and I was torn between annoyance and awe at the efficacy of Severus's healing spells.

My eyes widened. I'd expected more time to form a plan, to cajole him into changing his mind.

"No," I said flatly. I didn't even bother reasoning with him since I knew that he was just as stubborn as myself.

"You are getting this tattoo and is final," thundered Antonin, growing annoyed again.

"Like hell I am!" I retorted angrily, crossing my arms.

"If I haf to put you in a full body bind to do it, I will," he snapped, "Now be sensible and put cloak on,"

I eyed the door. Could I make a run for it?

"Fine, get my cloak," I deadpanned.

Antonin raised an eyebrow at my bossiness but decided not to argue. The moment his shaggy blonde head disappeared into the closet, I ran lightly to the door and wrenched it open. I took off down the hall at top speed, bare toes digging into the plush carpets to try to find some purchase.

I heard a roar of frustration behind me and heard Antonin's heavy footfalls behind me. I had absolutely no plan, but fuck all if I was going to make this easy for him. I took the steps down the great staircase two at a time. I nearly slipped at the bottom, but managed to regain my balance and pelted towards the cellar. I could hear Antonin's footfalls behind me growing closer and closer, as well as his labored breathing. For such a large man, he certainly could move fast when he wanted to. I rounded the final corner and barreled into Severus, sending us both flying to the floor in a tangle of limbs and black fabric. I was mildly dazed, which only increased the vertiginous effect of being picked up. Antonin was holding me aloft by the back of my robes, and I felt a bit like a kitten being carried by a larger cat.

"My most sincere apologies, professor Snape," panted Antonin, "My wife is acting absolutely ludicrously,"

"Help me, Severus," I begged.

I saw a look of concern cross Severus's face before he schooled it to stony calm. He carefully picked himself up off the floor and asked in an offhanded tone, "Whatever are you trying to do to her, Dolohov?"

At the same time that Antonin answered, "Nothing sinister, I assure you," I shrieked, "He's trying to brand me like a fucking animal,"

Snape raised an eyebrow but only commented, "You really shouldn't be lifting any heavy weights in this stage of your recovery". _Heavy weight am I, I'll show you Severus Snape,_ I fumed internally. I was starting to lose some feeling in my feet from spending such a long time off of the ground.

"It is the tradition of my house, and more importantly it is for her protection. Without the tattoo, my relatives will not protect her as one of their own," Antonin explained to a mildly interested Snape.

"That sounds quite to your advantage, Hermione," said Snape with a shrug.

I couldn't believe that pompous piece of bat dung. _To my advantage? How was it to my advantage to spend the rest of my life with a mark on my body saying property of Antonin Dolohov?_

Deciding I wasn't going to get any help from Severus, I twisted in Antonin's grip and began attempting to kick him in the shins instead. With a petulant sigh, I saw his hand reach into his pocket and withdraw his wand. The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was "stupefy".

When I awoke, I was in a dark, smoky room that smelled of sage and mallowort. There were low candles burning all around us, and the ceiling was draped with black velvet. In front of me sat a woman with three shining, navy lines down her chin. Her cheeks bore a complicated pattern of swirling dots and lines, forming a slash along each cheekbone. She had a red and yellow wrap around her head and was sitting sedately at a low table smoking a pipe and carefully winding a ball of silvery string.

"Nooooo," I groaned, sitting up in the wooden chair and staring at her openly.

"Do not worry," said Antonin in an undertone, "I already explained to her that you do not want the tattoos on your face,"

"Oh thanks," I hissed back sarcastically.

"Show some respect," He ground out, "She is the matriarch and shaman of our clan."

The scholarly side of my brain was intensely curious. I'd seen many northern witches and wizards with facial tattoos before, but always assumed that it was a stylistic choice. Before I could stop myself, I asked,

"What does that mean?"

I felt Antonin's beard twitch with a smile, before he answered, "Back in the days of the vikings, before the Statue of Secrecy, our clan lived together with muggle warriors. The matriarch shaman was the head of the village. She would use her Sight to shape the battle strategies, and cast charms on the muggle warriors to help us be victorious in battle. They would also train the witches and wizards who showed aptitude to become Berserkers."

"Vikings?" I asked amazed, "but your family is Russian?"

"After the statute of secrecy, we decided to withdraw from the area all together. Our people went up to the arctic tundra of Siberia where we could live without interference from wizards or muggles,"

I turned these facts over in my mind. I'd jokingly called him a viking before, but I had no idea that he was descended from actual Berserkers. It did make a lot of sense though. Regardless of how interesting these revelations were, I still was not going to be getting that tattoo. I decided to appeal directly to the matriarch.

"Madam, please. With no disrespect to your House or clan, I do not want this tattoo. I can protect myself," I plead

The old woman merely continued winding her ball of string. Antonin snorted.

"She doesn't speak English," he growled, "and anyway, I've explained my reasons to her and she agrees. It is final,"

"It is not. I won't hold still for it," I cried wildly, jolting to my feet and attempting again to flee.

Antonin grabbed me around the waist and dragged me into his lap. One arm clamped firmly around my hips, and the other caught both of my wrists together, pulling them into my chest.

"I said, show respect," he rumbled ominously. So far he'd been mildly annoyed by my defiance, but I could tell that now he was on the verge of becoming truly angry. I squirmed on his lap, but he had me in a steely grip.

"I would knock you out again," he growled, "but she says you must be awake for it to take to your magic."

The old lady at last finished winding her string and got up, beginning to speak to Antonin in Russian. They exchanged several sentences, and the arm around my waist grabbed my right hand instead, holding it in his own.

The woman and I studied each other for long silent moments, me glaring and she looking at me as if appraising a half-dead animal the cat had dragged in. At last, she seemed to come to a decision and nodded her head. She began to sing in a high, haunting voice. The rhythm undulated back and forth like the waves of the sea, and I felt the air around us begin to vibrate with energy. She took the silvery cord and began tying my arm to Antonin's in a complex pattern criss-crossing lines. I felt the lines grow cold on my arm, and I shivered, drawing back against Antonin's comforting warmth.

I was terrified, but knew that any disturbance to a ritual that released such quantities of latent magic would have potentially fatal consequences for us all. She gesture at Antonin with her head and he used the hand that was holding my other wrist to unclasp my robes to the waist, baring my stomach and silky black bra to the suddenly freezing air.

Antonin leaned both of our bodies back, stretching me up so my ribcage and chest were easily accessible to the still-singing witch.

From the table, she took a needle and a small hammer and set it against my skin. I screamed at the first puncture, gasping as she tapped the needle against me. As she continued, I grit my teeth against the pain, my breath coming in gasps. I could feel the marks burning across the middle of my chest and down across both sides of my ribcage.

My body filled with a sudden nervous energy, and I tried desperately to stay still. I couldn't help moving, grinding my hips back on Antonin. The pain was almost pleasurable now, like probing at a loose tooth. I was surprised to feel him hard beneath me, his steely length pressing between my legs as I tried to stop squirming.

The old woman was deep in concentration, her song growing in strength as the magic built inside me. The pressure in my face was almost unbearable when she stepped back at last, dropping the tools on the table as she collapsed back into her chair, her song ending in a long, echoing shriek. The pressure began to drain out of my body and Antonin groaned, and began to unwrap the cord binding our hands. I sank back bonelessly against him and closed my eyes, trying to process the tides of magic still rocking my body.

At last, our hands were connected and Antonin set me on my feet with surprising gentleness. He stood, up from the chair and stretched.

"Are you alright, _adskiy kot?"_ he asked.

I shrugged and tried to look down at the tattoo. I could see that it came up between my breasts, but from my angle I couldn't see the part under my breasts. Antonin turned to the matriarch and bowed on one knee, taking her hand and brushing his lips across her knuckles.

She smiled tiredly up at him and said something in Russian. He laughed and replied,

 _"Spasiba, dos vidanya,"_ which I recognized as a farewell. He shot me a meaningful look and I grudgingly sunk to one knee and kissed the bony, wrinkled hands. She smelled of forest and sage. Up close, I could see that her robe was made of some rough, blooded material and decorated with lines of tiny runes. As I raised my head and made to stand up, she shot out her other hand and cupped my face. She raised an eyebrow to me and gave me a small smirk. I could have been wrong, but the look in her eyes was something like affection.

Against my will, I returned her small smile. As I stood up to leave, I looked back at her to see her sitting in the chair, winding up her string again by the low candlelight. Outside the door, Antonin guided me down a long hallway made of rough-hewn tree trunks. The only light came from a roaring fire at the end of the corridor. As we walked down the long hallway, I my mind whirred. I was marked for life. The marriage I could have ended by killing Antonin (or so I liked to pretend myself), but I could tell that the tattoo's magic was irreversible.

We didn't speak until we had used the fireplace to floo back to our bedroom at Lestrange Manor. The magic was still running through my body in waves, and I felt an odd combination of intimately connected to him, but also very, very pissed off.

As soon as we stepped out, I turned and slapped Antonin full in the face. I grinned savagely at the shocked look on his face as my palm connected. However, a second later he had grabbed both of my wrists and slammed me against bookshelf, heedless of the books that were sent flying. His eyes were narrowed, and his arms were shaking with rage.

For the first time, I felt the fear that I'd seen others experience around him. I sensed that I'd finally pushed him too far. I closed my eyes and tried to disassociate from my body, trying to spare myself at least a little of the pain that was coming.

"You- you little-" he roared, but couldn't seem to find any words. Suddenly, I felt his bruising grip release my wrist and his hand tangled into my hair, jerking my head up. I reflexively opened my eyes and looked at him. Our eyes locked for a moment, and then he was kissing me, all his anger flowing into the kiss. He plundered my mouth, dominant and harsh. To my surprise, I found myself kissing him back, the magic flowing back and forth between us as I fought him for dominance. His hands found my thighs and he picked me up, forcing me to wrap my legs around his waist.

Antonin broke the kiss and attacked the junction between my neck and shoulder, biting and kissing aggressively. I could feel us moving, but I couldn't process anything else. Suddenly, my feet were on the floor and Antonin was spinning me around. His hands gripped my hips violently, slamming me back against his rock hard erection. I pushed my arse back against him, whining with desire.

"You want it?" he growled,

"Asshole," I responded, my voice sounding far needier than I'd intended. Antonin ripped my robes open and pulled them off my shoulders, leaving me in nothing but my underwear. In the mirror, I caught sight of the tattoo snaking between my breasts and wrapping around my ribs beneath my breasts. I had to admit, it was beautiful. I was frozen in shock for a moment, and then Antonin was ripping my underwear off, dragging me back to grind my bare pussy against the outside of his boxers. I didn't even know when he'd lost his robes.

"So wet," he growled.

"You just want to see your mark on me while you fuck me," I accused, as my traitorous body rocked against him.

His lips brushed the shell of my ear and he whispered, "Hell yes I do,"

His hands trailed over my ribs and up to cup my breasts, roughly flicking my nipples. Without waiting any longer, he kicked my legs apart and lined himself up to enter me. I felt the tip of his cock press against my folds and whimpered again.

He continued to torment my breasts, but didn't fully enter me. I realized that he was going to make me be the one to initiate.

With a growl I slammed myself back into his cock, my aching body getting the better of my pride.

I rocked myself back against him, eyes closed. I could hear the little moans coming out of my mouth, mingling with Antonin's string of Russian expletives. I felt so full, loving every inch of his cock as it slid in and out of me. I could feel his hands running over my ribs, and the waves of magic pulsing through me.

I opened my eyes again and saw us in the mirror. My tanned body, decorating with the shining navy lines, him wrapped around me possessively. My breasts were bouncing with every thrust, and the though flashed across my mind that I looked like a muggle porn-star. His teeth were gritted, eyes locked on me. As our eyes met in the mirror, I felt my orgasm rushing up on me.

Abandoning all pride, I whimpered, "I'm so close, please."

In response, Antonin placed a hand on my back, tilting me forward just enough for him to go even deeper, hitting that spot inside of me that made it impossible to hold on. An overwhelming wave of pleasure washed over me as I felt his come spurt in to me.

As my heart rate slowed, I felt my legs give out. I would have tumbled to the floor, but Antonin held me to him, his other arm braced against the sink. His body was sweating as he dropped his head down to kiss my hair. I didn't know what to say, but I couldn't find the anger that had possessed me earlier.

Antonin also didn't want to prolog the fight either. After a moment, he suggested, "Bath?"

I nodded my head against his chest and then disentangled myself, making my way to the tub on shaky legs. We sat down on the ledge together and as the warm water rose up past my calves, I leaned into his shoulder and fell asleep.


	24. From the memories of Antonin Dolohov: 4

Hermione seemed to have learned absolutely nothing from the tattoo incident and within a few days, she was back to determinedly defying Antonin's every wish.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea, _mishka."_

"Nonsense, Antonin. I won't hide in my room from spineless shits like him," Hermione argued back as she critically examined her reflection, looking dissatisfied with the fifth cocktail dress she'd tried on that day.

"Hermione, be sensible. The Dark Lord clearly send him here to test if we can work together without attacking each other. He knows that I wish to kill McNair, and he knows that McNair is furious with my lack of assistance on trade entente to Russia. Your presence will only inflame the situation."

Hermione grinned, having already gotten the whole story from Severus. Apparently McNair had bungled the negotiations so badly that instead of arranging for new shipments of Russian wand-wood, he had caused the Russian ministry to declare a trade embargo.

"All the better. Perhaps he'll give me an excuse to finally kill him,"

Antonin groaned. He could feel a tension headache forming at the base of his skull. "Hermione, be sensible," be begged again, "You don't even have a wand."

Hermione looked unfazed. She shucked off yet another dress, apparently deeming it unsatisfactory, "I'm sure I'll manage something," she deadpanned.

Antonin was momentarily sidetracked by Hermione's creamy, taught stomach. His eyes followed the navy tattoo up her ribcage to her full breasts, clad in a lacy purple bra. He shook his head and tried to re-focus on the conversation. _Murder, right_. A sudden thought struck Antonin, "Why have you never tried to kill me?"

Hermione looked surprised by the change of topic, but after a moment she shrugged, "You've treated me with respect from the very beginning. It would have been poor repayment to slit your throat or bash your head in with a vase, or steal your wand in the night,"

"That is ... specific,"

"I like to consider all the options," said Hermione, with a twinkle in her eye. Her face quickly grew serious again, "But I'm coming for drinks and that is that."

"God damn it, no. I will not bring you if you're going to attempt to kill him. The Dark Lord was perfectly clear that _both_ of our lives will be forfeit."

Hermione looked away sulkily, then looked back up at him from under her lashes, "Please."

Antonin gave a booming laugh, "No, you little devil."

But he stooped down and kissed her nonetheless. Hermione sighed dramatically, "Fine. I won't try to kill him," Antonin raised an eyebrow, "Honestly. But I'm coming." She turned on the spot and strode determinedly back to the closet.

"Why do you even want to have drinks with that... man?"

"As I said, I won't hide from him or let him think I fear to face him," she called from inside the sea of clothing.

Antonin groaned again, sensing defeat, "God save me from Gryffindors," he groused.

The drinks had barely been poured before Antonin decided he'd made a serious mistake in allowing Hermione to come down for drinks with McNair and the Malfoy men. She looked absolutely ravaging in an emerald green cocktail dress and a killer pair of pumps.

Antonin was fairly certain that she'd picked that dress to rub her new status in the Slytherns' faces. His only comfort was that Bella wasn't there, otherwise he would have despaired of any of them surviving the night.

"Tell me, Mr. McNair," said Hermione in a bland tone that was almost a perfect imitation of Narcissa Malfoy's chilliest voice, "Have you also managed to negotiate an embargo on soap?"

McNair's ruddy face turned a deep shade of puce. "Wh-what?" he stuttered, incensed.

"You look even more disheveled than last I saw you," Hermione explained with a completely straight face.

Draco and Lucius wore twin smirks, their heads following the conversation as if it were a tennis match.

McNair made an inarticulate choking noise, but seemed otherwise incapable of response. He tried to take a sip of wine, but was beset by a fit of coughing.

Hermione took a delicate bite of a canapé, serenely unconcerned. Antonin speared the fish as if it had personally offended him, his face stormy.

After a long moment, Hermione turned to McNair again with a polite social smile.

"Would you pass the whiskey, Mr. Mc-" Hermione cut herself off, "Oh wait, my apologies," she deadpanned with a meaningful glance at his severed forearm.

Draco caught Hermione's eye and raised an eyebrow, clearly wondering why the hell she was provoking a very dangerous man.

"I should have remembered," continued Hermione relentlessly, "seeing as I was the one who cut it off."

"Really, McNair?" drawled Lucius, clearly enjoying himself immensely, "Didn't you say it was sliced off by a falling suit of armor?"

Antonin dropped his head into his hand, the headache reaching a painful crescendo.

"Oh no, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione corrected him politely, "It's actually a rather funny story- I'm sure Mr. McNair won't mind if I share it with you all," she gave him a gracious nod and he glowered back. "I actually took it off myself with a slicing hex. The funny part is I'd meant to slice him right down the middle, but Molly Weasley accidentally bumped into me and threw my aim off."

Hermione gave a little laugh, and Draco and Lucius smirked even more broadly. Even Antonin raised an eyebrow, impressed against his will, and once again concerned by the complete lack of fear that his tiny, wandless wife was displaying in the face of a fellow Death Eater.

McNair's knuckles were white as he clutched his fork, but he reigned himself in with an immense effort. He was clearly also under orders to be civil. He glared daggers at Hermione for a moment, but couldn't seem to find anything to say. Instead, he turned on Antonin.

"Pity you couldn't find yourself a pure bride," McNair snapped.

Antonin's whole body stiffened, white-hot rage coursing through him. "The House Vance is as Pure as any," he stated with forced calm, the dangerous tone of his voice making everyone around the table shift uncomfortably, "And Hermione have more magic in her little finger than you in your entire line."

"That's not the sort of pure I meant," cackled McNair, clearly feeling that he'd scored at last.

Lucius and Draco exchanged looks, wondering what they'd missed. Antonin's fingers were itching to grab his wand and blast McNair into a stain on the pretentious persian rug. He set his jaw and tried to keep calm, his hand again twitching involuntarily to the wand at his side. Hermione laid a subtle, calming hand on his arm. Her wedding ring glinted in the firelight.

"You are disgrace, and a coward," Antonin bit out.

His entire body was vibrating with rage unlike he'd felt in years. The edges of his vision were going red, and he remembered his mother's admonitions as a child. _If you start seeing red, get out of the situation immediately. You won't be able to control yourself for long._

Without another word, Anonin set his drink down and turned away. He knew he had to leave before doing something that would get both Hermione and him killed. He hadn't even taken a full step towards the door before McNair's voice cried out, " _Exenteravus!"_

Antonin whirled around and made to draw his wand from his pocket, but the spell was already streaking towards him. To his surprise, the purple jet of light was deflected at the last second off of a shining, silver shield and slammed into a bookshelf, sending all the books flying across the room. Everyone threw up their hands to try and protect themselves from the flying tomes.

When the maelstrom finally ceased, Antonin lowered his arms to see McNair out cold on the floor, Hermione crouching down with her arms over her head, and Draco and Lucius hiding behind the sofa. His stomach swooped unpleasantly as he looked around the room. By all rights it should have been his entrails all over the floor rather than the mess of books.

Antonin could feel the hairs on his arms standing up. His body was visited by the hot, prickling feeling that he'd come to associate with near-death experiences. He'd heard once that the muggles called that feeling _adrenaline_ or something.

Taking a deep breath, he raised his wand to McNair with a shaking hand. The only thing preventing him murdering the bastard was that there was no honor in polishing off an unconscious man. After a moment he finally, muttered " _incarcerous,"_ causing thick black robes to bind themselves around the prone form on the floor. Then he waded over to Hermione through the sea of books and grabbed her hands to pull her to her feet.

She hissed in pain when Antonin grabbed her right hand, and drew it back quickly. Thinking she'd been injured by a book, he knelt down beside her and turned her hand over gently. Shock registered on his face at the circular burn on her hand, which he knew could only have one cause.

Behind the sofa, Lucius was pulling Draco out of a pile of books. There was an ugly, mottled bruise forming on the right side of his pointed face.

"Disgraceful behavior, cursing someone when their back's turned," drawled Lucius, the cool aspect of his tone somewhat ruined by the rumpled state of his hair and robes, "Low class." Antonin snorted.

"Damn, Granger," drawled Draco, "I had no idea you could do wandless magic like that,"

"Nor did I," growled Antonin, fixing Hermione with a meaningful look.

She shifted uncomfortably, "I was keeping it in my back pocket, just in case."

Antonin glowered at his wife.

"Fine, then," she snapped, "Next time I'll let him paint the room with your entrails. See if I care,"

Draco and Lucius both laughed.

"No shame in being rescued by your wife, Toni," said Lucius in a heartening voice, giving Antonin a clap on the shoulder, "Narcissa's saved my skin plenty of times. Not sure why really, since she'd inherit everything and be rid of me in the process."

"Force of habit, I suppose," came an amused voice from the door. Narcissa entered, apparently completely unfazed by the mess of books and the unconscious man on the floor, "Come on, Lucius, I'll take you upstairs and see if we can get rid of that bruising."

Lucius hesitated a second. He fixed Antonin with an appraising look.

"Don't you go waking him up to kill him after we leave," Lucius said seriously. Antonin narrowed his eyes, having intended to do exactly that.

"Seriously," Lucius admonished, "Take him to the Dark Lord and let him sort it out. You know he doesn't like it when we turn on each other,"

"Fine," said Antonin, in what would have been a sulky tone of voice coming from anyone else.

"Do Death Eaters always settle disagreements with entrail expelling curses?" Hermione asked conversationally, "It seems like there wouldn't be many of you left by this point."

"Sass me later, wife," Antonin growled, "I've got to take this sack of shit to the Dark Lord for him to pass judgement."

Hermione bit her lip worriedly, a hint of fear flickering across her face for the first time that evening. She seemed unsure of what to say. Antonin gave her a faint half-smile, and pulled her to his chest, planting a kiss on the top of her mess of brown curls. The headache was still pounding in the back of his skull, but all the tension had drained from his body.

"Thank you," he whispered. She hugged him back, but didn't respond.

Then, without another word, he levitated McNair's prone form and conveyed it to the fireplace, where he stepped into the roaring green flames, calling "Malfoy Manor!".


	25. Interview with Hermione Granger: 20

Antonin had barely disappeared into the green flames when they roared again and Daphne Greengrass strode out, a pile of books in her arms.

Draco sprang forward to take her traveling cloak, trying to hide the grin splitting his face. I grinned too, having missed Daphne during her potions conference in Norway. She stopped short two steps into the room and looked around in confusion at the books strewn across the room.

"What..." she began.

"Oh, Hermione and Antonin had a domestic," said Draco with a wink.

"So I take it he's in St. Mungo's then?" Daphne bantered back, not losing a beat. All four of the room's occupants laughed. I rolled my eyes, privately thinking that if I'd learned all those years ago that Draco Malfoy had a sense of humor I'd have dropped dead in shock.

"Sit down," I laughed, "I'll tell you all about it, but you'll need a strong drink."

We settled ourselves back into the chairs, and Lucius put the room to rights with a sweep of his wand. As we poured out drinks, he bade the three of us a good night and retreated with a meaningful glance and Draco and Daphne.

By the time Draco had told the story, with entirely too many dramatic re-enactments, we were all several drinks deep and staring to get quite silly. Draco turned on the wireless with a flick of his wand, and Daphne grabbed me and pulled me to my feet.

We waltzed across the room to Celestina Warbeck, Daphne giggling as I tripped over her feet.

Daphne started singing, "You charmed the heart right out of meeeeee," completely off-key. I whirled her around in a particularly spirited turn, and we smacked into something strong and warm, tumbling down to the floor in a pile of giggles.

I looked up to see what we had collided with, and found Antonin standing over me. His shoulders were so wide that he completely blocked out the firelight, making it impossible to see what expression he was wearing. We both froze for a moment before he laughed and pulled both of us to our feet. I breathed a sigh of relief, and let my momentum carry me directly into his warm chest. He wrapped one arm around me and tucked my head under his chin.

"Is everything alright?" asked Draco.

"Fine," grunted Antonin, "he didn't let me do it myself, but the bastard is finish."

I popped out from his embrace, "A toast!" I declared, slurring only slightly.

I grabbed four glasses and poured a generous measure of Ogden's into each. As we each let the liquid burn down our throats and warm our stomachs, a silence settled upon the group. Daphne, clearly not wanting to lose the momentum of the evening, proposed,

"Another toast- to the finest dancers this mouldy old manor has ever seen!"

"Ah, I don't think I can drink to that until I've seen the performance," countered Antonin with a gentile smile.

I sprung to my feet and dragged Daphne off the couch. We launched into an extremely exuberant, and slightly uncoordinated tango. As the last lines of the song rang out, Daphne tried and failed to dip me, resulting in both of us tumbling to the ground yet again. Applause rang out from our extremely forgiving audience as we dissolved into another fit of the giggles.

Draco pushed himself up off the couch, and pulled Daphne gently to her feet.

"I think I'd better put this one to bed before she does any lasting property damage. Dolohov, I trust you can keep Hermione in check."

"Unlikely," he grunted, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

"Oooh, going to put me to bed, are you?" giggled Daphne, winding her arm around Draco's waist, "I like the sound of that!"

Draco's entire face flamed as red as Ron's hair.

"In the strictly literal sense, yes," he said awkwardly.

"Well you're not fun!" giggled Daphne.

"Just stun her," suggested Antonin helpfully, "she can sleep it off."

Draco appeared to seriously consider this, as he tried to propel her towards the door, and Daphne gave him a smack on the arm.

"Not nice!" she admonished as they made an ungraceful exit.

I sunk back into the couch and reached for the Ogden's again, but Antonin grabbed my hand.

"Also not nice!" I fixed a bleary stare on him.

He pulled me into his lap and wrapped his arms around me.

"I think you had quite enough," he stated gently.

I huffed, but found myself unwilling to leave the comfort of his lap. We sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, staring into the fire. Uncharacteristically, Antonin broke the silence first.

"How do you feel, _kotyonok_?" he asked.

"Drunk. Happy. I missed Daphne," I evaded.

"That's not what I ask."

"I don't know. How am I supposed to feel?"

He shrugged. After a moment I continued,

"I should be happy. I've desired his death for so long. Tried to kill him twice. But I feel nothing. It just... still sucks,"

Antonin nodded.

"Isn't revenge supposed to be cathartic?" I asked, half to myself.

After a moment, Antonin answered me, speaking so quietly I felt the rumble in his chest more than I heard his words, "Never has been for me,"


	26. Interview with Hermione Granger: 21

After a week of unexplained absence, Severus reappeared at the breakfast table looking haggard in the extreme. There were dark circles under his eyes and his black hair hang even more lank around his face than usual. When he rose he motioned for me to follow with a jerk of his head. I followed him silently, knowing that it was unwise to attempt conversation before his first cup of tea.

I was still angry with him over the tattoo incident, but his present state was so forlorn that I felt more sympathy than anything else.

When we reached the potions laboratory Severus headed not for the work table, but for the small table and chairs in the corner. With a snap of his fingers, a pot of coffee appeared between us and he poured out two steaming cups. Apparently today called for something stronger than tea. Once he had taken a few sips I thought it was safe to venture,

"Rough week, Severus?"

"You have no idea," he replied with a grimace. "I've been all up and down the country hunting down werewolf packs during the day and setting up a network of safe houses for Draco at night."

"Why don't you go back to bed? Let me take care of the brewing for today?" I offered. Severus shook his head.

"It's alright. There's really nothing to do. I just needed to talk to you," he took another few sips of coffee before he continued, "I've got it all set up for Draco and Daphne. And Narcissa if she'll come. You're sure they're both in agreement to leave?"

"Positive," I answered, "They want nothing to do with this mess. Not the bravest thing, but who knows. Maybe they'll inspire more defections."

Snape nodded, "I suspect they will, actually. Although you never liked him, Draco is quite well respected among the Slytherins. People follow his example."

I shrugged, "Either way I'm glad they're getting out. It's nice to know someone has a shot at a happy ending."

Snape snorted, "Sweet Merlin, spare me from sentimental Gryffindors this fucking early."

I giggled. I didn't think I'd ever heard him curse before. Snape rolled his eyes in response, and then leant forward, ready to get down to business. He handed me a dented pack of mints, which I slipped into the pocket of my robes.

"This portkey activates at midnight tonight. It will them to the first safe-house. That one has the portkey for the next one, and so on. None of them knows the next destination, or the previous one. I won't tell you where they'll end up, for obvious reasons. Of course, they aren't to know it's me who set them up."

"Loud and clear." I responded. Snape looked confused, "Muggle expression," I clarified, "I'm on it."

"Very well, then get lost. I've got more werewolves to track down."

I grinned, "Always the gentleman. But I've got more for you," I grinned, enjoying the drama just a little, "I found out where the last horcrux is."

Severus's dropped his coffee on his lap. He leapt up and cursed, vanishing it with his wand. I took pity on his tired state and repressed my giggle.

"It's in the Rowle family cairn, somewhere in Scotland." Severus nodded, quickly schooling his expression back to boredom.

"Not bad, Granger. Now scram."

"Not even a word of apology?" I demanded with a raised eyebrow.

Snape curled his lip at me looking utterly unrepentant.

"Woe is you, you got some new ink. I haven't been dry since Tuesday,"

"I thought dungeon bats liked the damp," I retorted, without any real heat. Childish? Yes. My excuse is too much exposure to Bellatrix.

It was a mark of how far our friendship had evolved that Severus just snorted and went back to his coffee.

I grinned and skipped out. Once I'd reached the second floor, I checked that the coast was clear and then slipped into Daphne's room. I wasn't surprised to find her curled up in her window seat with a book.

I snagged a piece of paper and a quill off her desk and plopped down beside her. Jumped and shut her book with a snap- clearly she had been so engrossed she hadn't heard me come in. I felt a moment of envy, realizing I hadn't let my guard down that way in years. However, I brushed it off quickly. This was supposed to be a happy day, after all.

I wrote one word on the paper, _muffliato,_ and mimed the wand motion at her. She raised an eyebrow at me and cast it.

Once we were enveloped in the familiar spell, I burst out, "Guess what!"

She laughed at my eager expression and dutifully played along, "You finally got one of those puppies from the kitchen?"

"Nope!"

"Antonin has decided to get a unicorn tattoo?"

"Ew, nope!"

"I give up then. What?"

I took a deep breath and felt the smile slide off my face. "You and Draco can leave tonight. Escape."

Her eyes widened, "What?"

"It's all worked out."

She seemed shocked, "I didn't expect it to be so sudden."

I sighed, "I know, but it had to be secret. You understand, right? If anyone gets wind of this you'll both be killed."

She didn't say anything for a minute, and I almost started to fear that she was losing her nerve. However, after a moment she seemed to steel herself, "Okay. What do I do?"

"First of all, act normal. Don't let anyone, house-elf or human, see that you're packing or preparing to leave. If you're going to bring any things, pack them tonight after everyone's gone to bed."

She nodded, looking worried but determined. I handed her the mint box, "Here's your portkey. It leaves at midnight tonight. I'd suggest you pretend you're slipping into Draco's room for a late-night visit," I winked suggestively, trying to lighten the mood a little.

She rolled her eyes at me, but cracked a smile. I continued, "It will take you to a safe house, and there will be other portkeys from there so that no one person knows where you'll end up. Make sure you destroy them once you arrive. And that's it. Hopefully this time next week you'll be in Tahiti making little blonde-haired terror babies. And one last thing, Draco will want to bring Narcissa. If she refuses you'll have to modify her memory."

Daphne launched herself forward and hugged me. I hugged her back, my feelings warring between happiness for her and dread at losing my one true friend here.

We finally parted, and Daphne tried to say something, but couldn't. I could tell she was trying not to cry. She tried again and finally managed, "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too," I replied sadly, "Tell Draco bye from me. I was almost starting to not hate him."

Before either of us could break into tears, which would look extremely suspicious, I got up quickly and headed for the door. Daphne canceled the muffliato, and I called cheerily, "See you later then!" as I left, just in case anyone was watching.

Once I got to the hallway, I was at a loss for what to do. I hate being idle, and I never really know what to do with myself when I don't have a task at hand. Predictably, I decided to head for the library.

On the way there, I passed the door to Lucius's study. It was cracked open, and as I passed I heart a snippet of the conversation,

"... a true blow to them, finally."

"The Dark Lord will be extremely pleased."

I paused just out of sight, trying to hear more.

"You have the list?"

"I do. The little turncoat gave it all up."

"Excellent. Put it here so we can have a look."

Even though I had no idea what that list was, I knew I had to get my hands on it. Within moments, inspiration struck. I took a deep breath and cleared my mind of all thoughts of my mission, knowing that if I were caught these memories would be examined carefully. I focused only on my love for Harry, and my trepidation at what Antonin would do if he found out what I was about to do.

My plan was sheer insanity, but that's what comes of too much time with Harry Potter. I ran quietly down to the potions lab and threw some particularly volatile ingredients into a cauldron, saying a prayer to whatever gods had protected Neville from total obliteration all of these years. With a grimace, I rubbed an Aconite leaf down my arm. I knew it would produce a believable (and painful) burn, but do no lasting damage.

Gritting my teeth against the pain, I left my improvised explosive cauldron simmering and hid myself behind a curtain next to the door of the study. Not ten seconds later, a loud boom shook the house, and noxious green smoke came rolling up the stairs. The study emptied instantly, all five people inside running full-tilt towards the source of the explosion. I darted inside, pulling to door to behind me.

On the desk lay a single sheet of crumpled parchment. I grabbed it and my mouth fell open in horror as I read the list written on it in a careful block print.

BLACK FAMILY HOME, 12 GRIMMAULD PL, LONDON  
TONKS FAMILY HOME, 1115 BERKHOLD RD, BRIXTON  
THE BURROW, 480 INGHOLD PLACE, OTTERY ST. CATCHPOLE  
SHELL COTTAGE, 800 TINWORTH PL, CORNWALL  
THE MANOR, 1818 APSBERG LN, CHELSEA

I stared at it for a moment, and then the sloppy block printing gave me an idea. I grabbed a quill and within seconds the list became,

BLACK FAMILY HOME, 42 GRIMMAULD PL, LONDON  
TONKS FAMILY HOME, 4945 BERKHOBID RD, BRIXTON  
THE BURROW, 488 RINGHOLD PLACE, OTTERY ST. CATCHPODE  
SHELL COTTAGE, 888 BINWORTH PL, CORNWALL  
THE MANOR, 4898 ABSBERG LN, CHELSEA

I hoped that without an exactly correct address, the Death Eaters wouldn't be able to penetrate the _fidelius_ charm. I cast a last look at the desk, ensuring that everything was in order. Then I dashed downstairs, wading through the still roiling green fog until I was in the thick of the dungeon, coughing with every breath. I could see someone's outline through the smoke, and it appeared that they were wearing a bubble-head charm. Unfortunately without a wand I had no such option, and I sunk to my knees coughing. I could taste the acrid, sharp smoke in my mouth and feel it burning my throat. My eyes were on fire, and I pulled my robe over my face in a vain attempt to shield myself. I vaguely remembered a muggle anarchist I had dated, who told me that the best remedy for tear gas was milk. I laughed at that thought, which probably should have been a warning that I was losing my grip.

I suppose I passed out for a moment because I suddenly found myself laid out in the corridor with Lucius leaning over me. There was still smoke in the air, but through my watery eyes I could make out the outline of someone siphoning the green clouds away with their wand.

"What the hell happened?" demanded Lucius.

I tried to speak, but my throat was too raw, and all I could produce was a feeble croak. Lucius picked me up and carried me up the stairs the the second floor. He put me down on a chaise lounge and called, "Mopsy!"

The elf appeared with a pop and I swear she rolled her eyes. Without awaiting instructions, she snapped away and re-appeared with a glass of water and a wet washcloth. She pushed me none-too-gently into a sitting position and forced me to drink as she held the cold rag over my eyes. The itching and burning in my eye subsided instantly.

"Thank you," I was finally able to croak. Lucius looked at me expectantly,

"Well?"

"I was trying to brew a hair smoothing solution," I invented. My voice was still croaky and cracked on the last words, "I forgot that I'd have to stir with my wand to neutralize the aconite until it was too late. At that point all I could do was try to get out of the way."

Lucius rolled his eyes, "Women. You'll do anything for vanity."

I kept a straight face, but smirked internally. As Ginny would say, the trick to getting a way with a lie is knowing what your mark wants to believe.

Lucius hauled me off the couch and propelled me up the stairs,

"Narcissa is out on the grounds, but I'm sure Draco is capable of healing you. He should at least be able to do something about that burn."

I nodded, my mind still spinning. Once Lucius had deposited me on Draco's bed and walked back down stairs to assess the damage, Draco looked at me with his trademark raised eyebrow.

"Hermione Granger blow up a hair straightening solution? I don't think so," he accused me with a smirk.

I nodded, but didn't elaborate. "You don't want to know. But listen, you're leaving at midnight tonight. Be ready in your room. Don't let anyone see you're preparing to leave."

Draco's face became serious instantly, "Daphne too? My mother?" he demanded.

"Of course, idiot. Daphne's in. You'll have to talk to your mum" I croaked, "I need to borrow your owl."

Draco strode over to Hyppolita's cage and pulled the cover off of his beautiful eagle owl's perch.

"I won't be here tomorrow, girl," he explained quietly, "You'll have to stay with father for a while. He'll take good care of you."

My heart went out to him, as I remembered all he was giving up: status, position, a beautiful home and at least one loving (if insane) parent. Things most would kill for.

I grabbed a piece of parchement off of his desk and scrawled,

 _Harry- There's a traitor in the Order. The Burrow, Muriel's, Tonks's, Grimmauld Place & Shell Cottage aren't safe. Get out now._

 _All my love, H_

I gave it to his owl and told her, "Take it to Harry Potter please. Stay with him until tomorrow morning."

That done, Draco slathered a thick green paste onto my arm and wrapped it in a white bandage with surprising care. He snapped his fingers and a pot of tea appeared on the night stand. He filled the cup at least half way with milk before topping it off with tea and pushing it into my hands. I sipped slowly. Again, I remembered my anarchist fling and giggled.

Draco raised an eyebrow, "Only you could half blow yourself up and come out laughing."

"It's part of my charm," I croaked.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Get off to bed, you siren. Take better care of yourself."

Before I could think on it too much, I launched myself on him and crushed him in a hug. Before he could say anything or respond, I grabbed my tea and dashed out of the room before I could get emotional.


	27. Interview with Hermione Granger: 22

When Antonin returned, he was not pleased with me.

"What did you do to yourself this time?" He demanded. "You almost died last week, and today you try to get yourself blown up?"

I shrugged. I reached for him to kiss him hello, but stopped at the last second. I was still a little nervous around him after the last week's revelations.

He noticed my hesitation and leaned down to kiss me. I put my book aside and kissed him back, sitting up all the way in bed to kiss him deeply.

He sank down next to me and leaned his forehead against mine. I wanted to pull him into bed with me, but I wasn't sure how he would react.

"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.

"Just fine," I replied, "Draco said the burn will take a week or so to heal, but besides that nothing. If only it had burned off that awful scar."

Antonin's forehead furrowed. He picked up my other forearm and kissed it delicately, directly on the _mudblood_ scar I tried not to look at. I smiled at him and kissed his forehead, then smoothed out the crease between his eyebrows with my finger.

"Long day?" I asked.

"You have no idea," Antonin grumbled, "We spend all day chasing dead ends. Bad information, I guess, but we are wandering around some muggle neighborhood for hours looking for house that does not exist."

Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief, and the knot of worry in my stomach unclenched just a bit.

"Sounds deadly boring," I smiled placidly at him.

Antonin shrugged, and his eyes trailed down from my face to the skin exposed by the thin camisole I had put on before I got in bed.

"I want you," he whispered. He looked me in the eyes and put a hand on my cheek, "Is that okay?"

"More than okay," I whispered back.

We woke up the next morning still naked, wrapped around each other. I didn't want to move, but I could hear my stomach growling and I realized I had forgotten to eat again. I rolled out form under Antonin's arm and padded quietly into the bathroom.

When I came back, Antonin was gone.

My stomach twisted in a knot, and I tried to fight the feeling of foreboding taking over my body. I knew Antonin had been summoned, and I could guess why. I hadn't thought that my deception wouldn't be discovered quite so soon. I pulled on a pair of warmly lined winter robes, and descended the stairs quickly. I grabbed a sandwich off of the abandoned breakfast buffet and ran out the door. Lucius never had remembered to re-establish the wards keeping me inside the manor and I'd been careful to never draw attention to that fact.

I was intending on hiding myself in the woods until Severus got back and could extract me. Even if my cover wasn't blown, there was still a pretty good chance Voldemort would kill me anyway.

I had barely made it three steps down the grand staircase when Antonin popped into being just in front of me, holding his silver mask in one hand. He didn't ask where I was going or why. He grabbed my upper arm and shook me roughly.

"What happened, Mishka?" he demanded. I shook my head. "You have to tell me!" he insisted, "I need to know!"

I shook my head again, "It's safer for you not to know."

"DON'T GIVE ME THAT!" he roared.

"I won't let you get killed for my actions!" I yelled back.

He shook me again, "Don't do this, little one!" he growled. I didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say. We stared at each other for a second, and then he grabbed his arm. I knew he was being summoned.

"Do it," I ordered him.

"Hermione-" he started, but I grabbed him and kissed him hard.

"Do it," I begged him, "Please."

For a moment Antonin looked at me with a wounded, confused expression. Then he crushed me to him and we disapparated with a pop.

We landed in the middle of a circle of masked faces, and Antonin replaced his own. They were all looking at someone behind me, and I turned around slowly to face the evil, snake-like face that haunted my dreams.

Voldemort gestured at Atonin, and he fell back into the circle. Voldemort stood up and stalked towards me. My knees shook, and I could feel my chest prickling and sweaty. I wished I'd worn less-warm robes.

"So, Madame Dolohov," he hissed, "Even after all we have given you, you still betray us."

I didn't say anything. I was determined I'd die with dignity. I though of Harry, of Ginny, and the Weasleys, and I thought of Atonin returning tonight to an empty bed.

"Show our dear friends what you've done," he hissed. I realized what was happening just in time, and I called the memory to the forefront of my mind, hoping that Voldemort wouldn't dig any deeper.

He hit me with a charm I hadn't seen before, and I felt a sickly, yellow bubble slide out of my mind and envelop the whole room. I supposed that they were all watching the memory of me changing the addresses. I hoped I'd managed to cut it off before the part with Draco.

It was odd, everyone else was clearly immersed in the memory, and I was just watching them as they stood immobile. My eyes darted to the door, but any thoughts of escape were quickly foiled by Nagini, who was curled around a column staring at me with hungry eyes.

I simply waited, for the longest five minutes of my life, until the sickly yellow bubble popped. Everyone in the room gave a small jerk, and to my surprise I saw the bulky form of Antonin charge towards me. Even with his mask, I recognized his stride immediately. He crossed the space between us in seconds, and before I could say or do anything he had backhanded me across the face. I flew back several paces and hit the floor hard.

"HOW DARE YOU!" he roared at me.

I picked myself up gingerly, shocked but still determined not to reveal my mission.

"I'm sorry, Antonin," I whimpered, "I didn't mean to betray you, but Harry is the only family I have left. With my parents gone, it's just the two of us."

He grabbed me by the front of my robes and raised his hand again.

"Please!" I whimpered, "I didn't want to betray you, but I just couldn't stand the idea of anything happening to him. He's my brother in all but blood." Tears were running down my face and I made no effort to stop them.

Antonin slapped me again, holding me up so that I didn't fall over.

"Dolohov," said Voldemort smoothly. Antonin jerked to attention, releasing me and whirling around as if he had just remembered the rest of the room. He dropped to one knee. I followed suit, falling more than kneeling.

"I humbly beg your pardon, my Lord."

"I admire your fervor, Dolohov, but you have still failed me. A man should know what happens in his own household. _Crucio!"_

Antonin writhed on the floor next to me, but didn't make a sound.

"Please, my Lord!" I cried, "He had no idea."

After a long moment, Voldemort raised his wand and Antonin's body relaxed.

He pointed it to me, and I steeled myself.

"Wait, my Lord, I beg you!" Antonin interjected. I looked over at him, stunned, as he picked himself up off the floor. He slaps me across the face, but then intervenes in my torture? What was going on?

Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

"My lord, she is carrying my child. I promise you she will be punished, but I beg you not to do anything that will make her lose my heir."

I couldn't hide the expression of shock on my face. Voldemort cackled.

"Well, more Purebloods are always a cause for celebration, I suppose. You will discipline her, Dolohov?"

"Most severely my Lord," he confirmed. After a pause he added, "If my Lord permits, might I take her to my family's cabin until the birth to ensure that she has no more opportunities to... interfere?"

Voldemort nodded, "A sensible precaution. You may go."

Antonin bowed low, "Thank you, my lord. You are most merciful."

Without looking at me, he grabbed my by the arm and disapparated. We landed in the snow outside of a small cabin. I stumbled back a few paces, still in shock at not being dead. Antonin opened the door and gestured for me to enter.

I followed him in and stood just inside of the door. Antonin stepped toward me and raised his hand again. I flinched, and put an arm up to catch the blow. After a second, when it didn't fall I opened my eyes.

Antonin was standing in front of me, arm still outstretched, looking stricken.

"Hermione," he said in a soft voice, as if talking to a small animal.

I let my arm drop, and sunk into a chair. I was too shocked to even process his abrupt change in attitude. Somehow the first thing that popped out of my mouth was,

"Am I really pregnant?"

"Of course not," replied Dolohov, still in that same soft voice. I finally caught on,

"You were acting?" he nodded, "You must be an amazing occlumens," I marveled.

He shrugged awkwardly. He still looked deeply disturbed. I spotted a whiskey decanter on a shelf and crossed the room to retrieve it, snagging two glasses. I set them on the table between us and poured us each a stiff drink.

"I can't believe I'm alive," I said bluntly.

"I can't believe I hit you," whispered Dolohov. I looked over at him, somewhat surprised that hitting me was the part of the evening that bothered him the most. "I promised myself," he explained, "As a child, my father... hit my mother. Often. I promised myself I'd never be like him."

I stood up and walked over to the chair he was sitting in. I curled myself into his lap and pillowed my head on his chest.

"You saved my life," I said quietly, "I'm grateful."

"What the fuck," he said quietly, "I never imagine I'd hear my own wife thanking me for slapping her across the face."

He wrapped his arms around me. I knew if I was ever going to succeed in turning him away from the Death Eaters, it was now. I knew that wasn't the purpose of the mission, but I wanted it so desperately. I couldn't stand knowing that this good man, this loving husband, was under the power of the Death Eaters and Voldemort.

"Please leave them," I said quietly, "You see what these people are like, you see what they make you do. They're not who you thought they were."

"Hermione, you know there are so many reasons I can't."

"What are your reasons?" I demanded.

"First of all, I've done things for this cause. Things that the Order can never forgive."

"We've all done things in war," I argued, "I've killed. Hell, I sent a woman to be raped by a pack of centaurs."

"But-" he started.

"We've all killed," I interrupted him, "My point is that if I say you're with us, the Order _will_ accept you. I promise."

"Little one, I admire your idealism, I do. But that same type of idealism is what got me into this mess in the first place."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They can't win, mishka. The Dark Lord can't die."

"He can and he will!" I argued back, and I decided on the spur of the moment to risk it all, "We've destroyed all of his horcruxes but one, and that one's being hunted down as we speak. Very soon, he will die like every other man."

"He made a horcrux?" asked Antonin, stunned.

"Seven," I corrected, "He destroyed the one in Harry at the battle of Hogwarts, and we've been destroying the rest ever since."

"That evil fucker," Antonin growled, stunned. I pressed my advantage.

"Yes, he is. But you don't have to follow him any more. Be free. Please."

After a minute that felt like a century, Antonin finally nodded.


	28. Interview with Hermione Granger: 23

The next morning dawned bright and clear. We stepped out of the house hand in hand, and Antonin took a deep breath and then handed me his wand. I grinned as I felt the magic run up my arm. With a crack, I apparated us to a small diner near Grimmauld Place. Whenever we'd been going totally stir-crazy, Harry and I would sneak out of the house in disguise and come here. We'd eat a meal and just pretend to be normal people for an hour. We'd told the waitress we were sibling up to London for the day. I took a deep breath and the sent Harry a Patronus telling him where I was.

I sat down on a bench across the street to wait. I could tell Antonin was deeply uncomfortable being out in muggle London without a wand, so I passed it back to him. He squeezed my hand, and we stared blindly at the crowd of muggles passing us. Suddenly, there was flash of light and Antonin slumped forward unconscious.

I whirled around to the empty air behind us.

"Harry!" I cried.

"Hermione!" his disembodied voice replied, "Grab my hand! Let's go!"

"We're taking him with us," I gestured at my husband's limp body.

Harry groaned, but a floating hand appeared and grabbed his shoulder.

"Get his wand," Harry ordered.

I picked it up off the ground and grabbed on to Antonin's shoulder. With a crack we disapparated. It was an odd sensation being pulled along by Antonin's massive dead weight, and I stumbled on landing. I put my hand over my mouth and narrowly avoided vomiting.

When I straightened up, I saw Harry pulling off the invisibility cloak and barley had time to brace myself before he launched himself at me and hugged me tightly. I hugged him back, tears in my eyes.

"I though I'd never see you again!"

We broke apart and he grinned at me. Then, his face became serious. He turned to Antonin's unconscious body.

"Why exactly did we bring him along?"

Instead of answering, I looked around. The room was decorated in a 30-year old style, with peeling, cheery wallpaper. It was clean, but looked like it had come out of a time capsule.

"Where are we?" I asked, already suspecting the answer.

"Godric's Hollow," Harry answered.

"Harry, is this your parent's house?"

His face answered. I looked around again,"It's lovely. You've been living here?"

He nodded. I knew we were both thinking the same thing: he should have grown up here, in this sun-filled living room. I noticed all the doors were closed.

"The rest of the house is destroyed?" I asked.

Harry nodded, "Yeah pretty much. Fortunately, most of the bathroom is still there."

I grinned, "Beats peeing in the garden."

Harry grinned back, "That was once. And I was pissed."

"As was Mrs. Weasley," I teased.

Harry laughed, but his face quickly became serious again. "Seriously, Mione. What is this guy doing here?"

I took a deep breath. I felt a bit like a kid bringing home a street puppy and asking to keep it.

"He's coming over to us."

"Does he seriously have you believing that?"

"He is, Harry. He saved my life, risked his to do it."

Harry's eyes narrowed, "That's sweet and all, but the last thing we need is another Death Eater to babysit. We're already trying to sort Greengrass and the Malfoys."

"He'll have valuable intel," I argued.

"Or he'll send us into a trap."

"Give him some Veritaserum then," I suggested. Harry changed tack at the speed to light.

"Hermione, why are you so determined to keep him? If anything we should be bumping him off!"

"Harry!" I remonstrated, shocked.

"You know it's true, Mione. How can you move on after this if you're still married to him?"

I'd been trying not to think about that. I tried to come up with something to say, but Harry knew me too well.

"Hermione, you can't have a Happily Ever After with him. You see that, right?"

"I know!" I said defensively, "But you know I'm not likely to get one of those anyway."

"I wish you'd stop saying that, Hermione. You'll find someone who loves you, who's not hung up on the past."

I rolled my eyes.

"Look, we can sort this later. If we actually win this damn war. But for now, can we keep him?"

Harry sighed, and I had a vision of him one day in the future, letting his daughter bring home a mangy puppy. I desperately hoped I would see him live to be a father one day.

I wrapped my arms around him, "Thank you!" I whispered. Harry grumbled under his breath as he levitated Antonin into a chair and tied him to it.

He sent a Patronus, and a few seconds later George popped into the room. He had a little clear bottle in his hand that I assumed was the veritaserum. He whooped loudly and yelled, "Mione!"

Before I could move, he pulled me into a bone-crushing hug, and I finally had to whack him on the head to get him to release me.

"Yeah, yeah," grumped Harry, "Let's get on with this."

"Shouldn't we call Moody?" I asked.

"Well that's the thing," sighed Harry tiredly, "We have no idea who the traitor is. I doubt it's Moody, but I can't imagine who it would be either. For now we're spread out, and I'm going to use the coins to call everyone in when we're ready to finish off Snake-face once and for all."

"Will it be soon?" I asked, desperate for news.

"Hasn't Snape been keeping you up to speed?"

"Of course not," I replied, "Not when I could have been interrogated at any time."

"Well it's going to be very soon. We've signed a treaty with the werewolves that will allow them to govern themselves as semi-autonomous nations, and to send their children to Hogwarts if they so choose. They're with us, as soon as the last horcrux is destroyed."

"When will that be?"

"Hopefully soon. Tonks and Remus are on it as we speak. Tonks is a distant cousin of Rowle's, so we're hoping that she'll be able to enter the family wards around the cairn."

I sighed with relief. I was so, so ready for this nightmare to end.

George gave a cough, and we whirled around to see Antonin regaining consciousness. That stunner should have knocked him out for an hour, but he did have size working in his favor.

He blinked groggily and his eyes fixed on me.

"Hi. Sorry about this," I apologized quietly.

He gestured with his head, dismissing my apology.

"Let's get this interrogation on the road!" said George, with a dramatic, ring-masterly persona. He tipped the vial of potion down Antonin's throat.

"George!" I scolded, "that was at least 3 doses. You shouldn't waste it."

"Well he's the size of at least three people. Anyway, now that you're back you can make us some more."

I rolled my eyes.

Harry stepped up, all business.

"Tell us everything you know about the Dark Lord's plans," he ordered without preamble.

In a flat, low voice Antonin began to talk, "The Dark Lord has been trying to recruit other Russian families to his cause. However, word has reached Russia of some of the atrocities committed under his rule, and most of them want nothing to do with them. He has also been building up an army of inferi. They are currently stored in a cavern under the Black Lake at Hogwarts."

"Shouldn't be too hard to torch that," George muttered.

Antonin continued, "He is growing more and more paranoid by the moment, and he is soon planning to move his base of operations from Malfoy Manor to a more easily defensible location, maybe Azkaban. He suspects even his closest lieutenants of treachery."

"How do we access the inferi?"

"The passage begins in Snape's study. It is a blood ward. Only House Dolohov and House Lestrange may enter."

"A Black could not?" I asked, thinking of Sirius.

"No, too many traitors in that family."

I was suddenly struck by inspiration, "Could I get in?"

"Yes."

Harry and George looked at me, obviously trying to think of more questions to ask. I had another idea,

"Which two Death Eaters have the most volatile rivalry? Apart from Bellatrix Lestrange and Throfinn Rowle?"

"Yaxley and the Carrows," Dolohov answered without question.

"Why?" asked George curiously.

"The Carrow's father was killed by Yaxley in a duel after he had an affair with their mother. She died of grief shortly afterwards. Or Yaxley poisoned her."

I nodded at George and Harry. I could feel the outlines of a strategy forming in my mind.

"What protections will there be on the Malfoy's solstice celebrations?" I asked, "Could we sneak people in?"

"They would have to be admitted to the blood wards on the grounds. There are also anti-concealment charms on the doorway, so any disguise would melt away at the entrance."

"What about inside the party?"

"None, except for all of the Death Eaters in attendance."

"You think the cloak could pass anti-concelament wards?" asked Harry, anticipating at least part of my plan.

"I'm nearly positive," I answered with a grin.

I looked at Antonin sitting still and blank-faced.

"Can we untie him now?" I asked. Harry shook his head,

"Why did you leave the Death Eaters?"

"What I thought was right, wasn't. I thought we were preserving our way of life, but in the process we became monsters."

"Who are you loyal to?"

"My wife."

Harry raised an eyebrow at me and I blushed hard, looking down at the floor.


	29. From the memories of Harry Potter: 1

Antonin held the door for Hermione as she preceded him into the dilapidated living room of the Shrieking shack. He hung back for a moment, and Hermione was immediately engulfed by Tonks, who was crying with happiness. Sirius stood behind her, grinning like an idiot.

"Budge over Tonks!" he admonished her with a bark-like laugh, "We all know who she's really been missing,"

Hermione grinned and extended an arm to pull Sirius into the hug too. Outside the door, Harry gave Antonin a small shove, and he followed his wife into the dusty room. Tonks and Sirius both reacted immediately, whipping out their wands. Before Hermione could do more than shout "No!", Tonks had thrust the petite woman behind her and fired off a stunner that hit the giant blonde man full in the face.

He swayed for a moment and then fell forward like a massive tree, saved only from breaking his nose by a quick cushioning charm from Harry. Everyone was still for a moment, and then the sudden silence was broken by the tapping of Hermione's toe on the hardwood floor.

"Mione-" George began, but she cut him off, hair sparking dangerously,

"You said you warned them Dolohov was coming! GEORGE WEASLEY, WAS THIS YOUR IDEA OF A JOKE?!"

George attempted to back away into the hall, but Hermione wandlessly slammed the door shut behind him with a wave of her hand as she stalked closer.

"No Mione, really, I did. I swear," George offered lamely, looking around for other means of escape. Hermione was nose to nose with him when Sirius interjected,

"He did actually. We just sort of assumed he'd be, you know, a fucking PRISONER."

"He's a Death Eater!" Tonks added, eyeing Hermione with a mix of confusion and suspicion.

"Who has defected," Hermione grit out.

"So he says," muttered George mutinously. At a quelling look from Hermione, he reluctantly added, "Under veritaserum."

Tonks looked unimpressed. She poked Antonin speculatively with her toe, and he groaned, starting to rouse already.

"Are you sure you used enough?" she asked seriously, "Big arsehole like this might be able to fight off a regular dose,"

"We gave him three," Hermione confirmed.

Nobody seemed able to think of more objections, but Sirius and Tonks did not stow their wands as Antonin sat up, looking slightly cross-eyed after his second stunning in as many hours.

"Vat..." he groaned, holding his head.

Hermione crouched down beside him and rubbed his back comfortingly. She whispered something in his ear that nobody else in the room could catch. He shrugged, his expression still caught between grumpy and confused.

Hermione straightened up and turned on her heel to face the other inhabitants of the room. Sirius and George backpedaled at the stony expression on her face. At her furious glare, all the wands in the room returned to their owners' pockets.

"If we're quite done with the stunners?" Hermione asked rhetorically, eyes narrowed, "Then might we get on to the business of killing the Dark Lord?"

George, seeming to regain some of his confidence as it became clear that Hermione's anger was no longer directed at him, grinned and replied cheekily, "Well I suppose I could find some time in my busy schedule to off the old Snakey-face once and for all." He pretended to consult a pocket planner, "Tuesday's dreadfully busy, tea party-

"Lovely," Hermione snapped. She settled herself on the couch and looked around expectantly. Unsuccessfully hiding a grin, Sirius and Harry simultaneously plopped down beside her, throwing up a huge cloud of dust which set all three of them to coughing. Tonks and George lowered themselves carefully onto the rickety chairs.

Sirius slung an arm around Hermione's shoulder and ruffled her hair.

"Relax, kitten," he grinned, "This is supposed to be a happy occasion. We've missed you!"

Harry half expected his best friend to demand an apology on her husband's behalf, but after a moment Hermione relented and smiled grudgingly back. All those present in the room knew that while her temper was fiery, it rarely lasted more than a few minutes.

Dolohov, still on the floor, shot a glance at the last unoccupied chair, which coincidentally also looked the most ancient and spindly. Seemingly deciding not to risk it, he leant back against the wall and closed his eyes. Harry reached into his rucksack and withdrew a bottle of fire whiskey, waving his wand to send it around the room but somehow missing out Dolohov.

George leant forward and rubbed his hands together.

"So, you've got a plan already haven't you 'Mione?"

Hermione treated them all to her most evil smirk, "As it happens, I do."


	30. From the memories of Antonin Dolohov: 5

Antonin unlaced his shoes and sat hesitantly on the old four-poster bed in the Shrieking shack. Hermione had siphoned as much dust as possible, but the sheets still had a distinctly musty smell. Despite Hermione's assurances that it was not, in fact, haunted, Antonin still felt ill at ease in the big drafty mansion.

His reception from Hermione's friends hadn't helped matters. Although Hermione had pretended to be unaffected by their sideways glances at him and the looks they exchanged when the two of them had excused themselves to go to bed together, he was certain it had to have bothered her as much as it did him. During the long hours that they had plotted and planned, not one of them had acknowledged his presence except when it was strictly necessary to solicit information from him. He supposed that if he were in her friends' shoes, he would also be a mite suspicious as to the nature of their relationship.

In addition to that, he hadn't liked Potter, Black and Weasley's familiarity with her at all. Rationally, he knew that Brits were just more touchy-feely than Russians, but that didn't an angry knot forming in his stomach whenever any of them touched her. More than that, it annoyed him that she allowed them to be so overly-familiar.

Antonin pulled off his robes and laid down on the bed, staring moodily at the wall. Behind him, he heard Hermione come back from the bathroom and felt the bed dip as she crawled in next to him. When he didn't turn to embrace her as he usually did, she placed a soft hand on his arm.

"Are you okay, Antonin?" she whispered.

"Fine," he grunted.

"You don't sound fine," she pressed quietly.

"Stunners," Antonin replied tersely. Hermione rubbed his back sympathetically.

"I'm so sorry about that. You have to understand, they've faced you on a battle field dozens of times. It's hard to fight that reflex."

Antonin grunted noncommittally. Hermione continued rubbing his back for a few moments, and then finally sighed and turned out the light. Despite the smelly bed and the anger still coursing through him, Antonin was asleep in moments.

. . . . . . .

The next morning dawned far too early, and Antonin rolled over to find the other side of the bed cold. Where could Hermione possibly have gone? And why would she leave him alone in a house filled with his enemies?

All the annoyance from last night came flooding back again. Deciding he didn't give a fuck about being polite, Antonin opted to forgo a shirt and stopped only long enough to pull on a pair of sweatpants. He stalked angrily through the house and followed the smell of brewing coffee to the kitchen. He found Hermione seated on the counter, laughing and chatting with Sirius and Tonks. Her tanned legs were crossed alluringly, showing what Antonin considered to be an absurd amount of skin in her little pajama shorts.

They all stopped abruptly as he came in. Black's face instantly closed off and he eyed Antonin warily. Tonks, on the other hand, ran her eyes up and down Antonin's bared torso, clearly enjoying the sight of his well-muscled arms and defined abs. She seemed to have warmed up much more quickly than her cousin, and even offered him a friendly "Wotcher!" as he stumped into the kitchen.

"Morning," he snarled, not quite able to shake the manners that his mother had painstakingly instilled in him. Hermione waved her wand and removed the stasis charm from a cup of coffee and an omlette on the table that she'd clearly been saving for him. She gave him a friendly smile, which he did not return. Antonin took a long sip of coffee and flopped down in the chair.

After a moment, Hermione prompted Black to continue his story about the Weasley twins' latest antics and in moments all three of them were in stitches again. Antonin seethed as Hermione had to clutch Black's arm for support. All three were practically crying with laughter at the image of Auntie Muriel presiding over Christmas dinner in a tiara whose pearls had been rearranged to read "Butthole".

In that moment, Antonin was not just jealous that Black had made Hermione laugh, or that she was touching his arm with such ease. He was jealous of the close friendship and intimate trust that the three clearly shared. Antonin could count his true relationships of trust one one hand, and clearly Hermione was the only person in that category. Selfishly, it pained him to know that the converse was not true for her.

After a few more anecdotes, Black and Tonks excused themselves to get started on the preparations. Hermione was still picking at her plate of eggs, perched precariously on the counter.

"How did you sleep?" she asked.

"Oh, you are talk to me now?" Antonin replied waspishly. He felt a moment of guilty satisfaction when a hurt expression flashed across her face.

"Antonin, I never meant to leave you out!" she protested apologetically.

"It seemed like you were having a perfectly good time without me," he replied nastily, "perhaps I should just leave you alone with your harem?"

Hermione had the audacity to roll her eyes at him.

"Please," she scoffed, "It's not like that. They're my friends."

Antonin raised an eyebrow meaningfully. He was annoyed to see that Hermione did not even look abashed.

"Oh what, is Tonks supposed to be in love with me too?" She gave an unladylike snort, "Based on the way she undressed you with her eyes this morning, I'm quite confident she prefers blokes."

Hermione's casual attitude somehow made Antonin feel even more annoyed, and simultaneously more guilty about being annoyed.

"It is not appropriate," he growled.

Hermione scoffed again, "Seriously, Antonin? It's all strictly platonic. I'm married to _you_ , remember?"

"And has always been plat- pat- friends?" Antonin spat out, growing more and more annoyed.

Hermione chose that moment to hop down from the counter and bused herself rinsing off her dish in the sink.

"Pretty much," she replied in a would-be nonchalant voice, still purposefully facing away from him.

Antonin's whole body tensed and he gripped the edge of the table.

"Pretty. Much. So, no. No it has not," he clarified in a low, angry voice.

Hermione turned around and faced him. He could tell from the way her curls were growing wilder and wilder that she was getting annoyed too.

 _Good._ a little savage voice in his head said smugly.

"Antonin," she said with forced patience, meeting his glare steadily, "I had a friends with benefits arrangement with one of them. A long time ago. Before we were married. There were no romantic feelings involved and we were each quite happy to go our separate ways. End. Of. Story."

Antonin stalked closer, "Which one?"

Hermione stood up straight, not deigning to look abashed or back down from Antonin as he towered over her.

"It's really none of your business," she replied in a cool tone of voice, which the tiny rational part of Antonin's brain recognized as serious trouble. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and then failed.

"It is my business!" He roared at her, both furious and impressed when she didn't even flinch, "It is absolutely one of my business. One of those little bastards, he is taking advantage of the fact that I am unarmed to take liberties that he certainly would not take were he properly afraid of me."

Hermione's hair was throwing off sparks now, and Antonin absurdly noticed that one of them had set the kitchen curtains to smoldering. Hermione was shouting back at him now,

"Taking liberties! That's a fat joke! You have no right to tell me not to hug my friends. You're not my jailer any more!"

Antonin stepped back, his eyes wide.

"When did I act as your jailer, hmmm? You know as well as I do that I could have treated you much, much worse."

"I know that, you big idiot! So stop acting like my jailer now!" Hermione shouted back, following him step for step.

"Hermione, I am trying to protect your honor!" roared Antonin, changing tack rather than admit defeat.

"As if, Dolohov!" she shouted shrilly back, "The only thing you're trying to protect is your wounded ego!"

The curtain fire was starting to catch the wallpaper now, but Antonin was too focused on the tiny, furious woman in front of him to care.

"YOU ARE MY WIFE!" He thundered, gripping her arms loosely. Even in that moment, he was hyper-conscious of how easy it would be to accidentally hurt her.

"NOT YOUR PROPERTY!" She roared back, attempting to poke him in the chest, but unable to move her arms from his iron grip, "I love you and I want to be with you. If that's not good enough for you then you can fuck right off!"

They both stared at each other for a moment, stunned. Neither of them had ever broached the "L" word before. Suddenly, Antonin tangled his hand in her curly hair, ignoring the burning of tiny sparks hitting his hand. She stared at him with wide eyes, fear entering her expression for the first time that morning.

Antonin narrowed his eyes, and then tilted his head slightly and pulled her into a bruising kiss. Without hesitation, she wrapped her smooth legs around his waist and kissed him back with everything she had. He groaned as she opened her mouth and let him plunder it with his tongue. He pressed her body to him, needing to hold her as close a he possibly could. All of his anger, frustration and fear poured into the kiss.

When at last they broke for air, he felt all of the anger and tension drain out of his body, to be replaced with a new, pleasant sort of tension building in his lower belly. Their foreheads were pressed intimately together and he could feel Hermione's chest against his, breathing hard.

"I don't want to lose you," he whispered. Hermione nodded and brought one hand up to cup his cheek.

"Oh my god, you both deserve to burn to death!" At Potter's voice, both of them jumped and Hermione blushed furiously, uncurling her legs and tucking her burning face into Antonin's chest. "I was trying to wait to mention the fire until you two had stopped fighting," Potter continued, "But nooooo, you two needed to have a little make out session first and now the ceiling is on fire." To Antonin's intense confusion, Potter was smiling widely. Antonin hastily tried to surreptitiously adjust himself inside of his sweatpants. All he could think about was bending Hermione over the table, fire be damned.

Hermione disentangled herself from her husband, and upon seeing that the ceiling really was on fire, did some sort of intricate movement at her want that sent a wall of air rushing at the fire. To Antonin's surprise it was immediately extinguished.

Potter was still wearing a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin.

"You've never used the L-word before," he teased in a sing-song voice.

"Oh my god, shut up!" Hermione ripped the singed remains of the curtains off the rod and hurled them at Harry's head. Harry just laughed louder and ducked.

Antonin raised his eyebrow, and to his surprise found himself laughing as well.

"Do I want to know why _he_ knows that?" he asked, amused.

Harry shrugged, still looking inordinately pleased, "I'm basically a mix of wise older brother and gossip-loving girlfriend," he joked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Wise my arse," she groused.

Potter stuck his hand out to Antonin, who looked at him with confusion.

"Congrats, then," Potter grinned at him. Antonin, still looking a bit dumbfounded, took Potter's hand and allowed the raven-haired man to shake it enthusiastically.

"You make Hermione happy", Potter explained at his confused expression, "which in turn makes me very happy. If anyone deserves a little happiness, it's her."

Antonin still felt very confused. "So you hear me rowing with Hermione, saying all sort of terrible things to her and suddenly you're good with me being with her?" he clarified, wondering if Potter had gone off his rocker at last.

"Yep!" Potter explained, as if it were the simplest thing in the world, "Hermione can't do without a good fight once in a while, but it's clear you truly care about her. And thank you, for being her husband instead of her jailer."

He grinned at Antonin again and then opened his arms to Hermione. As she hugged Harry and tried to duck his friendly tousling of her hair, Antonin found that he minded significantly less this time.


	31. Interview with Hermione Granger: 24

As I hurried along the low, damp passage-way I felt something large and slimy plop onto my shoulder. I tried to flick it off my shoulder, but it had a consistency that was perfectly reminiscent of troll bogies and it simply stretched into a long, gooey thread. Wiping my hand on my cloak with an involuntary "Ugh!" I resolved to take a shower the second I returned to the Shack. Assuming, of course, that I wasn't eaten alive by an inferi.

Keeping one eye on the Marauder's Map, I let my thoughts drift to my friends and comrades infiltrating the party at Malfoy Manor. I was a little disturbed, but not terribly surprised that Antonin had kept hairs from as many colleagues as he could get his hands on, calling them "his little insurance policy". He hadn't been able to find a hair for Yaxley, but at this moment Tonks should be morphing into Bellatrix. I had no doubt that she would be able to play her role to perfection.

The plan was relatively simple. Hermione figured that Sirius, Tonks, Remus (by marriage) and Andromeda would be allowed through the blood wards. Sirius, Tonks and Remus would disguise themselves as partygoers.

Sirius would empty a flagon of Bellicose Brew into the drinks being served, in order to ramp all the partygoers' testosterone levels up to the point where they'd be spoiling for a fight. At that point, "Bellatrix" (Tonks) would pick a fight with Rowle over his sister. I was trusting to Bellatrix's advanced state of intoxication to prevent her from realizing that her doppelgänger was wandering around the party. I suspected that Tonks might also get some sort of twisted therapeutic value out of taunting Rowle into starting a fight with her. I could only hope that I would be back in time to witness the fireworks.

Meanwhile, Antonin would confound Yaxley in the hopes that he would inform Lestrange of Malfoy's plot to kill him. Sirius (disguised as Travers, who would be abroad) and Remus (disguised as Snape) would go around the party airing every feud and secret that Antonin had been able to think of. I suspected that the knowledge that Malfoy had been plotting to off Lestrange would be especially explosive.

I suppose people must have confided all sorts of secrets in Antonin due to his being the strong silent type, because he seemed to know about rivalries and, as my chavvy muggle cousins liked to say, _beef_ between all of the death eaters. Or maybe they were just a bunch of skull-wearing drama queens.

Regardless, we could only hope that these three separate instigators would allow factions to form and the whole party to dissolve into chaos. Privately, I wasn't sure whether it would be enough of a distraction to both destroy the inferi and kill Voldemort, but it was the best plan I'd been able to come up with. As I stalked down the passageway, I fretted over whether my charts and diagrams had accurately conveyed the plan to everyone. Fred had said it reminded him of Oliver Wood's quiddich diagrams, but I wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

As i wound through the tunnel, I started to hear muffled, wet shuffling sounds. With another shudder of disgust, I realized that it was the sound of hundreds of slowly rotting feet milling around aimlessly. I inched around the final corner and met with a shimmering, opaque barrier.

I groaned. We weren't sure what sort of wards might be on the cavern, only that they were somehow keyed into certain families. I'd optimistically thought that perhaps they would simply dissolve at my approach, but that didn't appear to be the case. I raised my wand and tried a fairly lackluster " _finite incantatum"._

Nothing resulted, which wasn't terribly surprising. I started throwing curse-breaking spells of increasing complexity at it, but if anything the stupid barrier seemed to flow even brighter. A light sheen of sweat was breaking out on my forehead. What if I couldn't get in? What if I failed the others?

I forced myself to take a deep breath and think. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration occurred to me. I knew of one other instance of old Snakey-face creating wards, and those had required a blood sacrifice. I pulled the jack-knife out of my boot and pricked the tip of my finger. No sense in over-kill, since I was going to have to deal with thousands of inferi as soon as this barrier came down.

I held my finger out, the shockingly red blood swelling at the tip. I was still reluctant to physically touch the barrier, so I flicked a drop of blood in its general direction. A second later, the shimmering barrier started to sparkle as it fell to pieces like wet tissue paper. I gave a whoop of triumph, and began adjusting the pack I wore on my back. I'd decided to use some muggle methodology for this mission, since I didn't trust fiendfyre in such an enclosed space. It also gave me no small amount of enjoyment to imagine Voldy's army of inferi toasted by a muggle invention.

I pulled up the gas mask from around my neck and pulled the straps tight. Next, I opened the valve on my flamethrower and adjusted the straps nervously. I stuffed my wand down the front of my shirt and held the nozzle end in both hands. Harry and I had practiced on a lonely stretch of beach near Shell Cottage, but I was fairly certain that using it in battle conditions would be a bit different.

As the last of the barrier came down, I took one more deep breath before cautiously advancing down the clammy stone tunnel. The sound of shuffling was even louder now, and ahead of me I could just make out the passage bending sharply to the right. The torches in the wall were spaced so far apart as to leave long shadowy stretches between their dancing light.

At the corner, I peeked around and saw that the tunnel opened into a huge chamber with a ceiling so high that it faded into shadows. I had an impression of a writhing mass, something like an ant-hill, and tried to avoid looking too closely at any of the greyish-green bodies. I was irrationally afriad that I might recognize one of the rotting faces.

The inferi must have been confined to the chamber by some sort of charm, since they were milling about aimlessly inside but none spilled into the passage. Setting my feet in a wide stance, I didn't wait even a moment before I pulled the trigger. The inferi nearest to me started catching fire, and began flinging themselves in all directions, emitting a low disconcerting moaning. I backed up quickly as one of the flaming monsters came towards me, stumbling with arms outstretched just like a zombie in a muggle horror movie. I frantically doused it again with the flame thrower as I skipped backwards, and its legs finally gave out just feet from me. It slid sideways and even as I watched the body started to fall to pieces as it burned. A shin fell forwards while the bulk of the body toppled back, a hand flying off to the side and the head rolling back towards the flaming inferno.

I couldn't see anything but a mass of flaming bodies, and had no idea what was happening with the inferi beyond the front row. My eyes were watering from the acrid smoke and I wished that I'd had the foresight to bring goggles. Suddenly, a pair of inferi burst from the mass, both barely on fire. I pulled the trigger in a panic and gave them both a spurt of fire right across the head. They stumbled back, and one blundered off into the smoke. The other, however, shook its head and rushed me again, its hair crackling audibly as it burned.

I pulled the trigger on my flame-thrower again, but to my horror it was empty. I backpedaled quickly, yanking my wand from my shirt and screaming, _impedimenta!_

The inferi was blasted back, knocking into two flaming companions and finally sinking into the mass of bodies. I gave a coughing gasp of relief and tried to think of a spell that would allow me to see. The thick, black smoke was causing my eyes to water furiously.

With a sudden flash of inspiration I cast a bubble-head charm. My eyes were still watering, but suddenly I could see in front of me. Granted, all I could see was fire, but at least I could see that. I took several more steps back and grinned savagely. All I had to do now was wait around to make sure they'd all burned to a crisp.

I won't lie. As the last of the inferi dissolved into piles of smoldering ash, I definitely play-acted the part of a gunslinger from one of my uncle's favorite black-and-white muggle films. Dramatically holstering the flame-thrower, I turned and swaggered out of that cavern with a final victory whoop and didn't look back.

I strode quickly up the tunnel, so exhilarated that even the dripping slime mold couldn't dampen my spirits. I was feeling so cocky as I emerged through the trick painting into Severus's old office that I almost forgot to check the marauder's map before leaving his chambers. It was a lucky thing I did, since Slughorn was patrolling the hallway outside at just that moment. I had no doubts that the little coward would have turned me over to the Dark Lord for some brownie points.

Once he had passed, I set off at a run for the front doors. Now that my task was complete, my mind turned to my friends and husband at Malfoy manor. If the timing had worked as I anticipated, they should have managed to start a brawl by now and be gathering their forces for the final attack. I was desperate to reach Malfoy Manor and help them.


	32. From the memories of Antonin Dolohov: 6

Antonin strode into the party, forcing himself to walk with a slow, relaxed gate and keeping his face clear of all expression. Internally, he was wound so tightly that he was half worried that he would _avada_ one of the confounded waiters that the Malfoys always hired, who seemed to pop up at your elbow at the most unexpected of moments. However, as it wouldn't do to give the game away just yet, Antonin forced himself to unclench his hand from the wand in his pocket, and instead wave in greeting as Goyle caught his eye from across the room. As of yet, his defection had not been discovered. Rather, his fellows had assumed that he was up at the hunting cabin beating some sense into his wayward wife.

The Order had been quite reluctant to allow him to come on this mission at all, but finally caved to the irrefutable fact that they were in no position to be picky. They still had no idea who the traitor in their midst was, which turned out to be a benefit to Antonin. As Bill Weasley put it, "I don't trust you as far as I can kick you, but I don't trust anyone else at the moment either".

Antonin looked around the room, peering past the glittering ice sculptures to try and catch a glimpse of the rest of the team. They had calculated that only four people would be needed to sow chaos at the party, so the real Snape and Andromeda had snuck in with the invisibility cloak and were working on quietly bringing some of the manor's wards down from the inside. With the information Antonin had been able to provide, they were hopeful that they would be able to clear the way to bring in the rest of their fighting force.

Antonin had begun to worry that the others had been apprehended, when what appeared to be Bellatrix flashed him a v for victory, the pre-approved hand signal, as she passed him. At least Tonks had made it into the party unscathed. Moments later, Sirius, disguised as Travers, could be seen discreetly emptying a flagon into a gleaming silver punchbowl. Antonin turned to take a glass of untainted punch off of one of the blasted waiters' trays and found himself face to face with Remus who, against his strident objections, was disguised as Snape. "Snape" took a glass as well and shot Antonin a roguish wink that looked quite out of place on the professor's severe countenance.

"To our victory," he said grimly, tilting his glass toward Antonin's.

Antonin wordlessly clinked his own glass against Remus's and downed it in one. Without a backwards glance, they moved away from each other and into the party. Antonin's blood red dress robes swirled around him as he moved through the crowd, and he pushed aside the thought of the way that Hermione had smiled earlier that afternoon upon seeing him dressed in her house color.

Phase one of his wife's plan had worked, but the spring inside Antonin didn't uncoil even a little. This part had been easy, but Hermione was still off battling Merlin only knew how many inferi and there was the small matter of killing the Dark Lord to be dealt with. It was time to get to work: he had to catch Yaxley and get the party started. This was the part of the plan he was most nervous about.

Antonin felt totally comfortable blasting through ranks of enemies on the battlefield, but he didn't have a good head for social politics. His usual modus operandi was to say as little as possible and, if he really couldn't avoid an interpersonal conflict, to solve it through brute force and intimidation. Narcissa, he reflected wryly, would have been a far better fit for this role if she weren't already halfway around the world.

Stifling a groan, Antonin made a beeline for Yaxley, deftly dodging Rabastan's attempts to hail him, and clapped the older man's hand in a firm handshake.

"How are you this evening, Yaxley?" He asked, attempting to sound jovial rather than menacing.

Apparently he had missed the mark a bit with his tone of voice, as Yaxley's eyebrows drew together in a look of suspicion.

"I'm well, Antonin, thank you," he answered guardedly. Deciding not to delay any longer, Antonin slid his hand into the pocket of his robes and rotated his body so that he was shielding Yaxley from the crowd.

" _Confundus_ ", he breathed, hoping that the twinkling fairy lights would be blamed for the flash of light the spell produced. He put a hand to Yaxley's shoulder as the older man stumbled sideways, eyes sliding out of focus.

"Too much of the good stuff already, da Yax?" He boomed in case anyone was watching. He drew closer to the silver-haired wizard and hissed to him, "It would be a good idea if you were to make Lestrange know about your conversations with Malfoy,"

"My conversation ... with ... Malfoy", Lestrange spoke haltingly. Antonin cursed, concerned that he had overdone the spell.

"Yes", he growled impatiently, "The one where he contract you to kill him,"

Yaxley nodded blearily, "Ah yes, I suppose I should let him know. Only fair, really."

"Only fair," Antonin repeated bracingly, "Oh look you have luck. There he is over there," and with a forceful shove he propelled Yaxley to where Rabastan stood off to the side, berating one of the house elves. _Confundus_ charms wore off quickly, so there was no time to waste. Yaxley only stumbled a bit as he made his way over, which was hopefully a sign that he was sufficiently recovered to hold a conversation.

Antonin watched him approach Rabastan for a moment before tearing his eyes away. He strode across the sea of party guests, listening for any raised voices in the murmur of well-mannered conversation. As he listened, he began to hear small arguments breaking out. Wives were chiding their husbands for looking too long at another guest's décolletage, friends were snapping at one another, and Lucius aimed a kick at a waiter as he scurried past him. The bellicose brew was definitely beginning to take effect.

The fake Travers was on the other side of the room deep in conversation with Melissa Crabbe, whose expression was growing more and more thunderous by the second. Antonin took that to mean that her daughter had not previously mentioned her muggle boyfriend. Meanwhile, Goyle was stomping around in search of Crabbe, who had privately been blaming him for bungling an assignment they had failed to execute. Antonin, smirking, spotted Alecto Carrow sitting alone in a chair, looking petulant. She was wearing an elaborately ruffled brown dress robe and a ridiculous quantity of makeup, which did nothing to beautify the scowl on her broad face.

"Might I have the pleasure of this dance?" Antonin asked, extending his arm politely to her.

Alecto shrugged ill-temperdly and joined him in a rather ungraceful waltz. As he dragged the lumbering woman around the dance floor, Antonin attempted to make some light conversation, all of which received terse responses. He wasn't sure if she was angry at him about his wife's betrayal or if she had simply ingested too much bellicose brew. Over her shoulder, he caught sight of "Snape" deep in conversation with Marietta Edgecome, who looked ready to murder. He supposed she hadn't known that Astoria was seeing other witches on the side.

Throwing the subtle approach to the wayside, he tried the direct tactic to get Alecto's attention.

"Look Alecto," he began, "I always consider us friends,"

Alecto raised an eyebrow. He knew that he was stretching the truth to the breaking point, as the extent of their friendship was a cold, damp and miserable month spent hunting the Golden Trio in the forests to the north of England, during which the mostly bickered at each other. He tried to re-calibrate,

"Well anyway, I have respect for you. Too much respect to sit by while Yaxley talks badly of your family,"

He felt her entire body tense in his arms, and sensed that he had hit the mark.

"What?" she shrieked, "What's that foul little cockroach been saying?"

Antonin hadn't actually thought that far ahead, so he tried to stall. "Well, he is at Rabastan's the other night and saying some things. Truly low. I tell him to stuff it and he did, but I'm thinking now that he may be saying those lies to others," he prevaricated.

"What's he been saying?" Alecto demanded again, her volume rising. People were starting to stare. Antonin hoped that the others took that as a sign that it was time to make themselves scarce.

"I don't like to say," Antonin tried again, mind spinning wildly to invent something, anything. Out of the corner of his eye, Antonin saw what he assumed to be fake Bellatrix slipping through the crowd away from Rowle, who was clearly trying and failing to contain his rage. With the Bellicose Brew in his system, Antonin had no doubt that this last jab about his sister would be his undoing. Rowle was under direct orders from the Dark Lord not to harm Bellatrix, but after all there's only so much a brother can take.

His attention was drawn back to his enrage dance partner when Alecto gave up all pretense of waltzing and clutched both of his arms, a mad gleam in her dark eyes. "Tell me now!" She shreiked, her voice rising a full octave.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. Antonin lowered his voice conspiratorially, drawing her closer. "He's been saying," he growled, drawing himself up in false indignation, "That you and Amycus are his children, that your mother is unfaithful all her life. Garbage, of course" He added hastily, seeing a murderous gleam in Alecto's eyes, "I naturally tell him he was talking out his arse and disparaging a good woman," (This again, couldn't have been further from the truth. Between Bellatrix and Amyranth Carrow, Antonin would have been hard pressed to say who he despised more.)

However, his words did the trick. Alecto shoved him aside, drawing her wand and roaring "YAXLEY!" At almost exactly the same moment, Rabastan, never one to fight fair, fired fired a jet of green flames at Lucius's back. In that split second, a woman who Antonin didn't know unwittingly stepped into the spell's path, and a moment later she was rolling on the ground shrieking as she was consumed by green flames.

Lucius also whirled around to face Rabastan, and fired a spell back as Thicknesse, the woman's partner, attempted to extinguish her. As soon as the flames died out, Thicknesse too turned on Rabastan. Rodolphus shoved a petite redhaired witch aside as he tried to reach his brother, who was now battling two foes. The redhead whirled around and threw a stinging hex back at Rodolphus. He attempted to aim a bombarda at her, still anxious to get back to his brother, but she was saved by a shield charm thrown by another redheaded witch who could only be her sister. The spell rebounded on another unsuspecting partygoer, and at that point the entire room dissolved into chaos. Antonin ducked just in time to avoid a nasty slicing hex from who-knew-where and decided that it would be best to wait this one out from somewhere sensible. He scrambled for safety and dived under an expensive-looking white table cloth, only to find that "Travers" and "Bellatrix" had already taken cover there.

"Good party," Sirius grunted, as he stuffed Travers's mouth full of a tray of hors d'ouvres that he had somehow managed to rescue from the carnage.

Antonin rolled his eyes at him, "I think we can get out now- is madhouse," he stated as one end of the tablecloth turned to dust and fell to the floor.

Sirius cast a regretful eye at the plate of pumpkin puffs, but didn't argue. Tonks cast disillusionment charms on them and they slid out the side of the table nearest the wall, dodging misplaced spells as they crept towards the great double doors. The room was in chaos, witches and wizards in various states of disarray flinging hexes and curses with abandon. Several had abandoned wands entirely and were muggle dueling on the floor. Antonin had to stop short in order to avoid being hit by a chair which Millicent Bulstrode was swinging at her erstwhile girlfriend, screaming "You unfaithful bitch!". As they watched, Astoria's mother launched herself on Millicent's back, slamming the pockmarked attacker into her daughter. They all went down in a tangle of hair, fists and splintered chair legs.

Tearing his eyes from the spectacle and fighting the unexpected urge to laugh, Antonin crouched low and continued to creep to the door. They had almost made it out when their path was blocked by a tangle of limbs that was made up of Yaxley and Amycus Carrow. Alecto was lying unmoving on the floor next to them, so Yaxley had at least won the first fight. He slammed the other brother's head against the floor and Antonin decided not to see what happened next. He and Sirius risked leaving the safety of he wall to skirt the duel, sprinting the last few feet to the door. As they slipped through, he looked back to see the dissilusioned blob that he knew to be Tonks take a flying leap over the two duelers. Surprisingly she landed on her feet, but then proceeded to barrel through the doorway at such a clip that she slammed Antonin and Sirius into the false Snape, who was making his own exit.

They all stumbled through the doorway, landing Tonks and Sirius on their arses, and Remus turned and waved his wand to block the doors behind them. Surprisingly, none of the other partygoers had fled into the hallway. If there was one good thing Antonin could say about his former brethren, it was that none of them backed down from a good duel.

"That was fun," Remus chirped, again a stark contrast to the man whose body he was borrowing. Antonin waved his wand to cancel the disillusionment charms, noticing as he did so that Sirius's polyjuice was beginning to wear thin. Remus meanwhile rolled up the sleeves on his bat-like robes and gathered Snape's long, silver-streaked hair up into a surprisingly flattering bun, which earned him a giggle from his wife and best friend.

"Ah for a camera," sighed Sirius dramatically.

Without further ado, Remus settled an anti-apparition ward on the whole room and sealed all the exits. The smile faded from Snape's sallow face, and Bellatrix's back straightened as their minds turned as one to the next step: killing the Dark Lord.


	33. Interview with Hermione Granger: 25

The crackle of the fire faded gradually behind me until all that I could hear was the slap of my feet on the stone floor. I had a stitch in my side, but I didn't want to stop. I had to hurry, or I'd miss the battle altogether. As soon as I emerged into the dungeon, I grabbed the Firebolt I'd borrowed from Harry. I still didn't love flying, but as I zoomed down the corridors I was glad I'd finally let Harry teach me.

My stomach twisted and turned as I flew low over the grounds. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I can't stand waiting for a fight to start; the anticipation is always so much worse than an actual battle. As soon as I cleared the Hogwarts boundary wall, I apparated mid-flight to Malfoy Manor. I could feel that the wards had already been broken, so I sped right over the gate and up to the graceful, shrub-lined entrance. I knew the broken wards must mean that the rest of the Order members were already inside, and had started the party without me.

Nothing looked out of place from the outside, so I tossed Harry's broom into the bushes with a quiet "Sorry, Harry," and drew my wand. I crept up to the inlaid mahogany front door and gingerly pushed it open. The heavy wood swung silently on well-oiled hinges as I crept into the entryway. Now, I could hear faint bangs and screams echoing disconcertingly off the marble floor of the hallway.

I ran down the hallway, trying to step softly and not draw unnecessary attention. I'd much rather attack by surprise than be the one surprised. I followed the noises through twists and turn in the hallways, past portraits of white-haired Malfoys, all hurling questions and insults at me.

"Shut the fuck up," I hissed at one severely beautiful blonde who couldn't decide between calling me a mudblood and asking what the blazes was happening. Unfortunately that only served to set the portraits off even more. I could only hope that in all of the other chaos, nobody would come to check what they were all screaming and snarking about.

At last, I turned a corner and came to a hallway that ended with a blasted-off door. Flashes of light emanated from within, accompanied by screams and bangs. My stomach was twisting and there was a sour taste in my mouth. Every nerve ending in my body was jangling. I took a deep breath, gathered my Gryffindor courage around me, and ran through the door.

What greeted me inside was pure chaos. A haze of smoke hung over what appeared to be some sort of banquet hall. I could see a few snatchers near me, who seemed to have a group of my compatriots pinned down behind an overturned table. The snatchers hadn't seen me come in, so I took the opportunity to blast them with a bombarda, and was pleased to watch their bodies fly across the room.

The trapped Order members, who turned out to be Kingsley and Diggle, popped out from behind the table and advanced on the prone snatchers. They looked like the had it well under control, so I advanced further through the haze towards what appeared to be the main action. I could hear Harry's voice yelling at the far end of the room, and as I advanced cautiously, wand raised, I was able to hear what he was shouting,

...really so broken you couldn't feel them destroyed, you Snake bastard?"

I heard an inhuman scream, and a green light lit the whole room. My heart stopped for a moment until I hear Harry's laugh,

"Missed me, Tommy!" he shouted.

"Where are you, Potter?" screamed the high, clear voice. Thank Merlin Harry had taken my advice and worn the cloak. Suddenly, Lestrange appeared before me out of the fog. His eyes bugged out at the sight of me, and I took advantage of his shock to get the first spell in.

Lestrange raised a smoky shield just in time, and my spell bounced off, hitting a hapless snatcher in the back. He whipped his wand, clearing the smoke and sent a purple chain flying at me. I dropped to one knee just in time, and sent a stunner at him, following it in the same breath with a trip jinx. Lestrange managed to block the stunner, but the trip jinx hit him in the knees and knocked him backwards.

He fell backwards with a very unmanly grunt, and a shout of, "Bitch!"

I didn't hesitate to follow up with a _petrificus totalus_ , but the spell had barely left my wand when something huge slammed into my side. I went flying across the room, cradling my wand against my chest in an effort to protect it. Whatever had hit me landed on top of me, knocking all the air out of my lungs. I smacked the enormous mass of flannel and muscle on top of me with my free hand, which felt about as effective as a moth slamming into a window. All I could see was chest hair peeking out of flannel, and the smell of unwashed man hit my nose. I wrenched my wand loose and fired off a vicious stunner.

I could smell burning flesh, but the man on top of me seemed to still be very much conscious. A hand wrapped around my neck and squeezed, and I started to see black. I hit him with a non-verbal bombarda, but again it didn't seem to have any effect. As my brain started to shut down, I realized that his invulnerability to magic must be due to his being a giant or werewolf. I tried to claw for the knife in my boot, but couldn't reach it.

Blackness was creeping across my vision, and even as I struggled I could feel the strength leaving my limbs. Suddenly, the hand was wrenched from my throat, and the man's weight was lifted from me. I wheezed shallowly, rolling over to see the man being torn limb from limb by an enormous bear. I shook my head in confusion, and as my sight cleared I realized that the bear's sandy fur was colored in shining blue patterns.

I couldn't believe Antonin had been angry at _me_ for not divulging that I could do wandless magic. He definitely never mentioned that he could turn into a huge damn bear!

With a final roar, Antonin ripped the man's throat out, spraying the tasteful beige wallpaper with bright red blood. With a shake of his shaggy head, he turned back into a man and charged towards me. I had just struggled to my knees when another blast knocked us all back to the ground. My ears were ringing as I rolled over yet again. I was already regretting helping Harry buy a muggle hand-grenade.

My eyes locked on Antonin again, lying on the floor clutching his ears. Suddenly, a hot wave of terror washed over me as I watched Lucius Malfoy stagger to his feet in front of me. Cold fury washed across his face at the sight of Antonin; clearly he realized that Antonin had betrayed them. I raised my hand to defend my husband, and realized that my wand was no longer in it. Antonin hadn't even realized the danger he was in, and was still clutching his ear with one hand and wiping the blood from his eyes with the other.

Lucius raised his bone-handled wand. and took at Antonin. In desperation, I did the only thing I could do. I scrambled to my feet and launched myself at Lucius like a muggle football player. I slammed into his back and grabbed his hair, sending us both crashing into the hardwood floor. I used the hair in my hand to slam Lucius's face into the ground, and vaguely processed that the crunch I heard must be his nose. However, before I was able to finish the job Lucius managed to point his wand back over his shoulder and grunt, "expulso," sending me spinning away into the air. I managed to roll into the landing, but I still felt an ominous pop as my shoulder hit the floor.

I scrambled back to my feet and looked around wildly for something to defend myself with as Lucius sat up, screaming,

"You whore of a blood-traitor!"

Some sophomoric part of my brain decided that the correct response would be to scream back, "Takes one to know one, man-whore." I don't know what possessed me, but I can only blame Ginny's influence.

I grabbed a spindly wooden chair and tried to launch it at Malfoy, but he dissolved it mid-air with a flick of his wand.

"I'm going to enjoy this, you little bitch," he growled. My eyes were locked on the end of Malfoy's wand, which was why it was such a surprise when his head suddenly parted company with his body. His blond hair flew behind his head like the tail of a kite, and his body collapsed to the floor, revealing the tattooed bear behind him. I ran forward and slammed myself into Antonin, who wrapped one furry paw around me. As I buried my head in his fur, I realized that the room had gone very quiet. I turned around to find the smoke clearing from the air.

I stepped away from Antonin to see that the remaining Death Eaters were lying on the floor with their hands behind their heads. There were bodies on all sides, and the smells of blood and smoke permeated the room. I staggered towards the nexus of the smoke, desperate to find out if Harry had survived. I'd barely taken five steps when I heard a voice shriek, "You traitor!"

I looked back in shock to see a ghostly-white Katie Bell pointing a shaking wand at Antonin.

"So _you_ the little traitor," he rumbled calmly. My stomach turned to lead. How could Katie, of all people, have betrayed the Order?

"You've screwed us all," she shrieked wildly, "All our fates were tied to the Dark Lord! Now what will we do?"

Antonin shrugged. How could he look so unconcerned? "Pay for crimes, I suppose," he said calmly.

"I won't go to Azkaban", she shrieked, her voice rising to a fever pitch. I inched closer, trying to get in range to intervene. It felt like one of those horrible dreams where you need to fight or flee, but your body moves as if under water. Inside my head, a voice started chanting _no, no, no, no..._

Eyes rolling madly, Katie swung her wand wildly at Antonin and screamed, " _Avada kedavra!_ "

Without a conscious thought, I threw my body through the air, trying to intercept the spell that was headed for my husband.

I saw the green light screaming towards me, and felt a spike of pain slam through my shoulder. Then, all went black.


	34. Interview with Hermione Granger: 26

Surprisingly, I felt myself hit the floor. I was pretty sure from the shooting pain in my tailbone that I wasn't dead.

In my peripheral vision, I saw Antonin surge forward with a roar that shook my bones, transforming back into a bear mid-leap as he pounced over my prone body. He tore through a shocked Katie as if she were made of tissue paper, sending her broken body flying. However, he didn't stop there. As I rolled weakly to my side, struggling for breath, he charged towards the closest group of people, a few unfortunate Snatchers who were trying to scramble clear. His claws tore through them without mercy.

"He's berserking!" shouted Remus.

"Don't kill him," a voice shouted over the hubbub, and my heart leapt to recognize it as Harry's. However, Antonin was now raging towards Professors McGonogal and Sprout. Fortunately, one of them caused the rug to shoot out form under the bear-from of my husband, knocking him back. As he tried to struggle upright again, the rug wrapped itself around him, squeezing tight. For a moment I thought he had been restrained, but after only seconds he burst through it like some sort of furry super-man.

By some miracle, I spotted my wand on the floor only inches from my face. I snatched it up and staggered to my feet. I limped towards Antonin, still feeling like I was in a slow-motion dream.

"Antonin!" I tried to scream, although only a raspy whimper came out, "Antonin!"

He didn't seem to hear me, charging forward again as the professors fell back, wands drawn. I knew if I didn't stop him, they would.

With a yell, I leapt on the tattoed bear's back, wrapped an arm around his neck and disapparated us both with a crack. We re-appeared in the garden outside of the Lestrange Manor, the first place that had occurred to me. Although we had been thrown apart from each other on landing, we both found our footing easily in the thick grass.

I backpedaled quickly away from Antonin, not sure if he'd regained his mind yet. I knew that old norse bersekers had stayed in a war fog for hours or even days.

Antonin swung towards me, his tattoos now glowing electric blue through his fur. There was no sign in humanity in the bear's eyes, and he barreled towards me, teeth bared. I threw up a shield, which he slammed into with a dull thud.

"It's me, you idiot!" I yelled at him, as he picked himself up dazedly. He threw himself at the shield again and bounced off again.

"It's your wife!" I tried again. Suddenly, Antonin's paw glowed blue and he swiped through my shield, which fell away in tatters.

"I love you, you asshole!" I screamed, backpedaling, still reluctant to curse him even as he charged towards me.

To my surprise, the bear pulled up short, shaking his head as if he had water in his ears. He stopped, cocking his head to the side. After a few moments, he slid back into his human form. However, his eyes were still glazed over and he was shaking with rage. His face bore a grimace that would have sent most people running for the hills, which was only accentuated by a deep bloody gash running up one cheek.

I took a tentative step towards him, and was encouraged when he didn't respond by trying to rip my head off. I closed the distance between us and tentatively touched his face, on the non-bloody side.

Antonin's hand shot out and clenched around my wrist like a vice, a low growl reverberating through his chest.

"Antonin, you're hurting me!" I squeaked, trying to wrench myself free. His only response was to increase the pressure on my wrist and yank me into his hard body. For the first time in months, a sick, hot dread swept over me as I looked up at Antonin. Before I could totally lose my nerve, I reached up on my tip-toes and kissed him lightly, hoping to shock him out of his stupor.

Rather than releasing me, Antonin's other hand buried itself roughly in my hair, jerking my head up to deepen the kiss. His tongue plundered my mouth with a violence that shocked me even as a spark of electricity shot across my skin.

I felt my torso heating up where the tattoos were, nipples standing at attention, and suddenly a wave of energy swept over me. It was like when you're nerving yourself to jump from a high dive into the water, or about to cast a powerful and terrifying spell. I was kissing him back just as hard, needy whines escaping me as the ache between my legs reached a fever pitch.

Antonin grabbed my arse, fingers digging into my soft skin and lifting my body so he could grind his hardness against my aching core. I arched into him eagerly wrapping my legs around him,, desperate for more sensation. His mouth tore away from mine and he pulled my hair hard, exposing my neck to his assault. He licked and sucked and bit, and I had no doubt it would be a mass of bruises the next day. I whined again, low in my throat and pushed against him desperately, trying to get more friction.

Suddenly, Antonin dropped to his knees and let me fall to the ground before him. I barely let out an "oomph" of surprise before he was tearing at my robes, ripping them from me. As he threw my discarded bra to the side, I saw his eye catch on the swirling mass of tattoos on my ribcage, and his eyes seemed to clear a bit.

"Hermione?" he growled.

"Antonin," I begged, not wanting him to stop now when I wanted him so badly.

Antonin palmed my breasts, causing me to arch up against him.

"Alive," be breathed in a tone of wonder. He lowered his head and nipped at a nipple, his hand sliding down my stomach to cup my throbbing pussy, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. I moaned, beyond words.

Abruptly, his mouth left my body and he leaned back slightly, hand still cupped lightly around my sex. The anger had left his expression, to be replaced with one of bafflement.

"Or are we both in land of ancestors?" he asked seriously, looking around him.

I groaned. "No, Antonin," I snapped, "We're alive. Katie Bell didn't have the power or will to stick with a cause. How could she possibly cast an _Avada_?"

"Mmmm," he hummed, looking content and running a thumb down my cheek. Much as I was pleased to have the human Antonin back, I was beyond impatient with the delay.

"Now fuck me, Antonin, or I swear I'll cut our cock off!" I huffed, arching against his hand. With a grin, Antonin ripped my underwear off, sliding them carelessly down my legs. His fingers probed my entrance gently.

"You want it?" he whispered in a low tone, free hand pinning my hip to the grass.

"Antonin, I swear to god..." I grit out, trying to arch up into his touch. With a smirk worthy of Malfoy, Antonin dove his fingers inside of me and my eyes rolled back in my head. His thumb chased light circles around my clit, and I bit my cheek to keep myself from begging him to fuck me already.

"So wet," he hummed appreciatively, "Can't wait to have my cock in you,"

I was already dangerously close to the edge, and as I felt his lips close lightly around my nipple I fell apart. Antonin mercilessly worked me over with his fingers as the wave of pleasure washed over me and left me gasping for air.

After a few seconds, the stars receded from my vision and I was able to focus on Antonin's face. To my shock, his eyes were once again so dark with fury they were almost black.

"Antonin?" I asked hesitantly, my hand absently reaching to him to trail down his taught stomach.

"Hermione. What the fuck were you thinking?" he asked quietly, fury vibrating through every syllable. I could feel his muscles tensed with the effort of keeping himself under control. This man was just an emotional rollercoaster today.

"What?" I asked in genuine confusion, my hand sliding deeper into the trail of thick black hairs that led to the part of him I so desperately wanted to touch.

"When you jumped in front of that spell," Antonin continued in a low voice, "When you tried to die,"

"I didn't," I shrugged, unconcerned. We'd both survived; I really couldn't see why he was making a erkling out of a bowtruckle.

Antonin grabbed my shoulders and shook me, "Never again!" he practically shouted at me.

I rolled my eyes at him ostentatiously and shook my arm free in order to run my arm down his still-hard cock. I refused to apologize for saving his life, if that's what he was going for. _Git_.

Antonin groaned, and his eyes rolled back in his head for a moment at my touch.

"You-" he grunted, breathless, "Are the most-" but apparently the ministrations of my hand left him at a loss for words and he trailed off into an unintelligible groan of frustration.

Without warning, Antonin grabbed my hips and flipped me over, forcing me to all fours in front of him. His hands gripped my hips with brutal strength.

"Merlin curse it, woman," he growled, "Spread your legs."

I froze for a moment, fear finally returning for some reason. Antonin didn't raise his voice, but rather leaned down and dragged his tongue up the column of my neck.

"Spread your legs," he whispered again in my ear. This time, I complied, the cool night air hitting my dripping pussy.

Smack! Antonin's hand hit me between the legs and I cried out, arching back towards him. I was so turned on at that point that the pain felt exquisite. I whimpered and looked over my shoulder to find his dark eyes drinking in the sight of me before him.

"Please," I groaned, pushing my arse even further towards him and begging for him to take me. I felt the very tip of his hot, hard member between my legs and gasped.

"Never again," he repeated angrily.

I groaned, past the point of witty comebacks.

"Fuck me," I begged. And, finally he slid slowly into my warm welcome. I lost myself in the delicious feeling of him inside of me and the world shrunk to just the two of us. I didn't give a flying fuck that if anyone were to apparate to Lestrange manor right at that moment, they would find the two of us fucking like animals on the lawn. My legs began to tremble as he slammed into me, filling me up with his delicious girth. I sank down to rest my face on the cool grass, causing his cock to hit a whole new part of me and making me see stars.

"Antonin, I'm going- I'm-" I panted, the familiar warmth racing down my spine.

"Fucking come for me, little one," Antonin rasped in my ear, his jerky breath playing on my throat as he leaned over me. One hand wrapped around my hip, rolling his fingers across my clit and the stars overtook my vision once more.

I choked out his name as I came, my heart pounding so hard I felt that it might rip from my chest. Were it not for Antonin's strong hands on my hip I surely would have sagged to the ground. Antonin's thrusts quickly became wild and jerky, and with a last deep thrust home I felt his seed splash my womb as he pulled my hips back against his.

With a final groan of "Oh, shit," Antonin rolled over on his side, ever mindful not to crush me, and pulled my small body to nestle against his. He dropped an exhausted kiss against my forehead, and suddenly I felt a wave of tiredness sweep over me, and then I knew no more.


End file.
